


a hundred springs flow east towards the sea

by drelfina, evocates



Series: A Very Chinese ABO [9]
Category: Joy of Life, Joy of Life (TV), 庆余年 | Joy of Life (TV), 庆余年 | Qing Yu Nian (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Multi, Other, Plotting, a very chinese ABO, chen pingping might be in a wheelchair but he's just as terrifying, mix of pov for different scenes, mostly politics, non-traditional abo, politics and humour, terrifying people are terrifying, the truth of fan xian's parentage is explained, there's a reason why qing di is basically cao cao, this fic is all about old dudes being terrifying monsters together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drelfina/pseuds/drelfina, https://archiveofourown.org/users/evocates/pseuds/evocates
Summary: Fan Xian keeps his word and asks Chen Pingping for help.Chen Pingping's help is terrifyingly effective.In which Chen Pingping gets hella pregnant, plots abound, Fan Xian finds outwhyhe has a nickname, we learn the mystery of his birth, people get killed, and plots get resolved.Also the Bastard Emperor is a Bastard, but then that's just how he is.Politics and politics and more politics.Title is from 《 长歌行 》汉乐府诗：无名氏 - “A Song for Long Journeys,” Anonymous (Han Dynasty)
Relationships: Chen Pingping/Qing Di, Fan Xian/Lin Wan'er, Li Chengze/Xie Bi'an
Series: A Very Chinese ABO [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761676
Comments: 79
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> drelfina: 
> 
> so this is the start of yet another monstrous fic. It's not as long as 100k but it's not a fucking short one either. All politics, all the time - jumping pov, but we do indicate when each scene shifts.
> 
> Epilogue will be posted in a couple days. :)

青青园中葵   
Sunflowers in the field are purest green,  
朝露待日晞  
The morning dew waits for the sun to dry it.  
阳春布德泽  
The warm spring spreads its favours,  
万物生光辉  
Ten thousand things grow in the radiance.  
常恐秋节至  
Feared often that autumn will come, and  
焜黄华叶衰  
Flowers and leaves will yellow and wither and wane.  
百川东到海  
A hundred springs flow east towards the sea,  
何时复西归  
When will they come back to the west again?  
少壮不努力  
If the young and vigorous do not work hard,  
老大徒伤悲  
In old age, they will be sorry in vain.  
《 长歌行 》汉乐府诗：无名氏  
“A Song for Long Journeys,” Anonymous (Han Dynasty)

* * *

It was cute how much the Investigative Bureau frustrated Fan Xian. The poor boy didn't know what to do about his nickname, and how it was definitely going to stick for his entire life. 

He'd come back with a job well-done; the secret Xiao En had been holding for the past twenty years had only confirmed suspicions he had long since held, and while the topic of said secret filled him with a painful sorrow, he was used to it, and could shelve it aside. The Beiqi spymaster had been milked for his final last secret, and Fan Xian had then disposed of him neatly. 

He was so proud of him. 

Prouder still, that he'd also done precisely what he'd expected; true, he hadn't quite expected Fan Xian to come back with an actual wound, but since Fan Xian had come back with two age-mates who would be important politically and socially, Chen Pingping figured it was all good. 

But now… 

He had told Fan Xian to stop calling him “Niang.” 

As much as he loved the sound of it from Fan Xian's tongue, it … wasn't his title to have, nor his to claim. He was legally nothing to Fan Xian, and it would create the wrong impression and expectation. 

Fan Xian had looked so heartbroken when he'd told him that, and he'd hardened his heart a little and sent him off with a few officers of Division Three back to the Fan Residence, and went to report to the Emperor on this mission's closure. 

He still had to deal with the Second Prince's problem, after all.

He was glad that Fan Xian had come to like and wanted to help Xie Bi'an, so he needed to think a little more on what the Emperor could be willing to do to help his precious omega son. Having Fan Xian in the works did add another dimension Chen Pingping hadn't thought he could plan for all those years ago after all. 

The Emperor was waiting in his study, as always, dressed in nothing much than his tight-fitting underclothes. His fingers were running over the piles of arrowheads kept in the box near the brazier.

Eunuch Hou settled Chen Pingping's chair close to the brazier, bowed, and stepped back out of the room like the good servant he was, knowing exactly when his presence was entirely unnecessary. The Emperor lifted his gaze to meet Chen Pingping's for a moment before he returned to fussing over his arrowheads.

"Do you reckon that he has proven himself in this mission?"

"More than enough," Chen Pingping murmured, curling his hands against his blanket over his knees. It had been a cold morning, and barely warmer in the afternoon when he'd finally made himself dismiss Fan Xian, and now with the evening’s chill full-settled into the city, he could feel the bite of wind. "There should be no more talk against his unsuitability to marrying Wan'er."

His smile was faint. "Assistant Minister Fan and Prime Minister Lin should have no objections with how well he's acquitted himself."

Snorting, the Emperor picked up one of the arrowheads and bounced it lightly in his palm. "There should have never been any talk about his unsuitability for Wan'er," he said, conveniently forgetting that he had used exactly that as an excuse to send Fan Xian to Beiqi in the first place.

Chen Pingping hid a smile by ducking his head down. "His true parentage is not public knowledge," he reminded his Alpha gently. "For all Prime Minister Lin and the city know, he is but an illegitimate son of an Assistant Minister."

The Emperor flung the arrowhead back into its box and took the three long strides necessary to stand in front of Chen Pinging. His fingertips ghosted over his cheekbone for a moment before they dipped down to curl around his chin, tilting his head up so he had no choice but to meet the Emperor's eyes.

"Is he only that?" he murmured.

Chen Pingping didn't shiver; he had years to be used to this. "Is he not?" he said, very quietly, matching the volume of the Alpha in front of him, touching him. His hands were very warm, from working the metal, from being near the brazier. from working matters of state.

"He might wish to call me Niang, but that is not my position to claim."

The Emperor blinked. "Is it not?" he asked, one side of his mouth lilting up in a smile that, Chen Pingping knew, was amused and indulgent and terrifyingly dangerous all that once. "Didn't Qingmei herself call you that while you were falling asleep on her shoulder, exhausted by the effort of carrying him?"

Fan Xian was such a clever boy to have figured it out; he was so glad that it turned out that Fan Xian took after his mother and father so much. He really had been absolutely perfect to be the one to have that last secret of Xiao En's. That was really Fan Xian's to have. All those decades of planning, just so Fan Xian could be the one to listen to that Alpha's last words.

Then Chen Pingping could no longer think of Xiao En, or even Fan Xian, because the Emperor had folded his fingers back, tips touching palm, and was now running his knuckles over the line of Chen Pingping's jaw. "Our old friend is definitely his mother, for without her, his existence would not have been possible. But," he folded down into a squat, eyes never leaving his chosen, mated omega's, "that much could be said about you."

This touch, then, did make him shudder. The curl of his Alpha's warmth on his face, stroking a line of heat along his jaw made him want to drop his mouth open, pant for more of his Alpha's taste.

He resisted, a little.

"... I was but a mere incubator," he said, blinking a little as his Alpha's words sunk into his mind. "I had no hand in the raising of him."

"Neither had I," the Emperor pointed out mildly. "Neither had Qingmei. The only one who had any hand in _that_ ," his lips quirked, "is a man who wasn't even in the birthing room when the boy took his first breath."

It was a mistake, a show of weakness, Chen Pingping couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut, a shiver wreaking from his shoulders to mid-back at the memories that washed over him. The Emperor, who really should have nothing to do with such blood-filled, messy affairs, had settled himself behind Chen Pingping's kneeling body, holding him up, and Fan Xian's mother, his true mother, had coached him through every breath, every push.

He had Ye Qingmei's hand in his left, and the Emperor's in his right, when Fan Xian was finally brought to the world.

"I," he started, and could not continue, breath tripping hard in his throat. "I— _Your Majesty_."

In response, the Emperor cupped his face with both hands. A whine wrenched out of Chen Pingping's throat as he was kissed, and then his hands clawed at the Alpha's – _his_ Alpha's – shoulders as the Emperor lifted him out of his chair like he weighed absolutely nothing, settling him in his lap as he took his mouth.

His Alpha was always like this – this warm tremendous force of heat and will, and a force that he couldn't help but give into — right from the very first time he'd met him, and even now.

If the Emperor wanted to put his hands on Chen Pingping, there was no other option but to give in return, reach for the man like reaching for the sun, eager to be devoured, sinking into the thick, terrifying musk of him.

After the Emperor of Qing, though he was then a mere King’s heir, and Ye Qingmei, no other Alpha was anything to fear. After them, he could walk the world, the Jianghu and politics both, and be untouched and fearless.

He pressed forward; like this he and the Emperor were of an exact height, and it never ceased to make his heart swoop with how _strong_ his Alpha was, to pull him straight up and out, and manhandle him how he liked.

And he could feel the way heat unfurled in his belly, spreading out to his limbs as if commanded to do so by the Emperor's hand drawing up his spine. Chen Pingping gasped, or perhaps even sobbed, as he felt the Emperor pull his useless legs apart with a bounce and touch, and dropped his head back to let his Alpha's teeth graze the length of his throat.

"Your Majesty," he whispered. "I..."

"Do you think I would've forgotten, Chen Pingping?" the Emperor asked, a dark mirth twining in his words even as he settled Chen Pingping firmer on his own hips. "It might have been decades, but your scent when you approach heat is and will forever be engraved in my mind."

Heat. Heat – this warmth, a burning heat in him, was starting to kindle, and he didn't even know yet why, this would start _now_.

"It's been decades," he gasped, not quite able to feel what the Emperor had done to situate him, but he could feel the Alpha's hand up his spine, the tingling liquid trail of his Alpha's possession on his skin.

Curling his arms around the Emperor's neck, and leaning in, was pretty much all he could do, other than gasp against his throat and nuzzle straight into the vast, thunderous scent of him that was already surrounding them both.

"I— this aged omega is surely too old—"

The Emperor chuckled, a sound akin to one of those sweets Ye Qingmei had made for them once, a block of dark stickiness that unspooled like heavy honey on the tongue. Chen Pingping clung and sobbed, reduced to nothing more than the weakest part of him, all plans and plots spilling out of his hands in the overwhelming presence of an Alpha, _his_ Alpha, who wrapped him up like this and made him feel so safe.

"You have always been able to keep up with me," the Emperor said, his teeth on Chen Pingping's jaw making it difficult to concentrate on either words or the fact that they were headed straight for the private bedroom tucked behind the study. "I'd even promise to go a little slower at the start."

"That's not," Chen Pingping barely to grit out. " _Your Majesty_."

"I will find the best doctors in the land," the Emperor said, and Chen Pingping arched as he was half-laid, half-flung onto the bed. The Emperor's eyes were very dark, filling up almost the entirety of his vision before his thumb scraped over Chen Pingping's lower lip. "And make sure that you and the child you will give me both survive and _thrive_."

He'd never expected his Alpha to be gentle with him. He would never ask that, and never _wanted_ it, and his Alpha was right, because he would always and could always keep up with his Alphas until he passed out.

He opened his mouth to his Alpha, and let him in.

Always would let him in, always— his body, his mind, his soul was entirely his Alpha's to plunder, use as he saw fit, and he couldn't do anything but be bowled over by the rush of it, no longer having to think, never having to calculate anything, his words, just to react and reach for his Alpha, gasp for breath and breathe his Alpha's name.

"Your Majesty." Teeth on his throat, and time folded on itself. " _Your Highness_."

The Emperor laughed again, a low rumble of a chuckle that ghosted over Chen Pingping's cheek. "Come now," he murmured. "If you're going to go that far, then you might as well call me by name."

What could Chen Pingping do, but obey?

"Yunxu." The name tumbled out from his lips. "Yunxu, Yunxu.” He saw his legs wrenched apart, ankles tied to the bedposts with torn-off strips of his own clothes. His elbow thudded hard against the silk-covered wooden board beneath him, and he barely managed to lift his hips before the Emperor loomed over him again, taking his mouth. " _Yunxu_!"

He didn't have to hold his legs up, and his Emperor didn't have to spare his hands to do so for him, just ghost his too-hot, too-desired hands, all over Chen Pingping's body, turning him into liquid and inflaming him both at once with both of their desires.

Yunxu didn't stop, wouldn't stop, kept kissing him; it wasn't plundering so much as ... as trying to make them both as one, and he tangled his fingers in Yunxu's clothes, fingers digging into the fabric hard enough that if didn't keep his nails properly trimmed, they might have torn the fabric in his eagerness.

When his Alpha entered him, he knew it because Yunxu growled into his mouth, growling his possession straight to the centre of his body, his Alpha making himself at home within the sheath that Pingping provided for him..

He couldn't really feel his Alpha's movements inside him – a mystery he had never been able to resolve, because his legs being broken made it understandable that he could no longer feel them, but he had lost all sensation and movement from his pelvis downwards – but Yunxu had fucked him enough times since that battle that he knew to lavish plenty of attention to Pingping's throat and shoulders and neck.

"Mine," the Emperor growled, using the pronoun reserved for him and only him. His next thrust was strong enough to Chen Pingping slightly up the bed, staking his Imperial claim over his omega's body. "From the first moment we met," his teeth grazed the mating mark on the join between neck and shoulder, barely covered by Chen Pingping's clothes, "you have been mine." He parted his lips, and—

 _Bit_.

Chen Pingping cried out, hands scrambling at his Alpha's body, and could not breathe for a moment when the Emperor slanted their mouths together again. He could taste the salty bitterness of his own blood before the Emperor pulled back, and the smile aimed at him was sharp and possessive, matched by the gleam of dark, dark eyes fixed upon him.

"Xiaochangzai," he said, and matched the unearthing of the old, old nickname with a stroke over Chen Pingping's cheekbone. "My Xiaochangzai."

* * *

He was handed the tea, afterwards, his Emperor bringing him the tray himself. 

He wouldn't let anyone else come near Chen Pingping after such a session, much less a heat. 

The possessiveness was typical of an Alpha, and Pingping took it as his due, curling as much as he could onto his side, nuzzling the bedding that was thick with both their scents, before his Alpha helped him sit up, leaning boneless against his shoulder, to take the tea. 

The smell hit first, the astringent scent of oolong, which wasn't the usual blend used to flavour the contraceptive tea – not the usual, but not _unusual_ either. 

Then he touched his lips to it, and the first taste of it hit his tongue. 

The Neiku manufactured all sorts of goods ever since its inception, but the Investigative Bureau regulated quite a bit of it, particularly the pharmacological side. The Third Division wasn't just for poisons and gadgets, but also involved with pharmaceuticals and quality control, and he knew precisely the tastes for most of the drugs. 

He knew, very intimately, the tastes of certain teas. 

The contraceptive tea which prevented pregnancy did so through a complicated process that, Ye Qingmei had explained once, could be summarised as making a uterus' walls too slippery for a child to latch on to it to feed from the mother. He knew exactly how that tea tasted like, and was intimate with every single flavour that the Neiku sold, because he had, by habit, taken a serving whenever the Emperor was done with him.

This wasn't it. In fact, this wasn't any of Neiku's products at all.

No, he knew this tea from twenty years ago, after he had started throwing up and his Investigative Bureau had started placing buckets in every room and discreetly handing them to him. This was a _medicine_ that could be bought by any medicinal hall in the city, a blend of herbs that was meant to help the fetus settle into its mother's body, and ensure a safe pregnancy. There was a variation, Chen Pingping distantly remembered, that would be taken for an easier _delivery_ some months down the line.

He stared at the cup in his hand.

When the Emperor had said that he would find doctors, when he had mentioned a child... Chen Pingping had thought that to be empty words said in the midst of passion. Filthy talk that the Emperor was sometimes prone to, when the mood struck him. But now...

Now, he lifted his head. His Alpha met his eyes, and gave him an expectant smile.

Chen Pingping huffed out a breath, almost amused, and drained the cup in one go.

"It's a good thing," he said, keeping his tone casual and voice even, "that Fan Xian has proven himself in Beiqi." His mouth lilted up into a smile. "It seems that the timeline for him to take over the Investigative Bureau has been moved up."

"It has indeed," the Emperor said, his smile getting wider.

Possessive, really, and the heat of it sent a frisson of shivers down Chen Pingping's spine.

"And with his new responsibilities," the Emperor said, thoughtful, "I think we might be able to turn our minds to our... persistent problem."

Chen Pingping blinked. "Your Majesty has great faith in me," he said, and carefully placed the cup back onto its saucer, and then both on the tray. "May I remind Your Majesty that he has another son, an Alpha, who will be ten years old next year?"

The Emperor waved a hand. "It's not a matter of the child," he said, "but of the mother."

 _Oh_. Chen Pingping let out a sharp, explosive breath. "Have pity on your Empress, Your Majesty," he said wryly. "Not only has her immediate family all been killed and her clan as a whole annihilated as well, she has never been able to make any claim to your heart, and her son never had your favour."

The Empress had been the eldest daughter of the previous Emperor; all of her brothers had been killed to make way for the current Emperor, no more than a nephew of the last one, to take the throne. Then, twenty years ago, she had cooked up an unforgivable plot that resulted in the death of someone very dear to both the Emperor and his omega, and had the rest of her clan vanquished as a punishment.

Or so, Chen Pingping thought, the story went.

"If she had managed to raise her son properly," the Emperor huffed, "then Lao Er would not have to _be_ Lao Er." He folded his arms and sat back down onto the bed. "You know just as well as I do what that third son of mine wants to do to his brother."

Third son. When the Crown Prince was supposed to be separated and isolated by the nominal ranking of a family's children by the nature of his birth. The Emperor had already made up his mind.

"Yes," Chen Pingping said. "I know." He let out a long breath. "But again, Your Majesty: what of your current youngest?"

"He is not a threat to _that_ son of mine," the Emperor said.

His _mother_ was no threat to the Empress, he meant. Consort Liu had none of his favour, having been married merely because it was necessary to take a consort from one of her clan. Her son might be an Alpha, but he was so young as to not be worth considering a viable threat. The only one of his consorts and concubines who enjoyed a modicum of his personal favour was Ning-cairen, whose son was out of the running by every metric possible, and she was not even a little bit liked by the Empress Dowager.

None of his consorts were true rivals to the Empress, and without a plausible replacement, there was no removing her son.

Except for the one person who _had_ his favour, and who had enough of it that being covered by it was neither a stretch of imagination nor a metaphor. Chen Pingping sighed.

"Your Majesty," he said softly, "I am not even sure if I can carry to term. Not with this body."

"The best doctors of the land will be here to guard both your health and the child's," the Emperor said, and his eyes made it clear which he prized higher. This... baby, if it existed (which it definitely did, because Chen Pingping had not ever heard of an omega being taken during a heat and prevented pregnancy without help from the contraceptive tea), was the keystone to removing the current Crown Prince and ensuring the Second Prince's safety from his brother, but the Emperor would gladly wave off all that planning and plotting if it meant his omega would be in danger from the pregnancy.

It was, Chen Pingping thought, always humbling to be the focus of attention of an Alpha like Li Yunxu. Because this was _not_ the Emperor's care; not the care of an Alpha who ruled over a kingdom. No, this was a selfish protectiveness of an Alpha over his omega.

"Is that your only concern?"

Chen Pingping laughed before he could stop himself. "I drank the tea, Your Majesty," he reminded him. "Still, would you give this child some time to settle," at least until the first trimester had passed and the risks of miscarriage had dropped, "before you set your plans into motion?"

Leaning forward, the Emperor grinned at him. "Six months," he said. "You have that long to train Fan Xian to take over."

"Your Majesty is generous indeed," Chen Pingping said primly, letting the Emperor shift around. He refused to allow himself appear to be affected by his Alpha's possessiveness.

And it was, as always, impressive that his mate's mind still worked during the omega’s heat – no other Alpha living could still retain those upper mental facilities as to already lay out a plan just on happenstance.

The fact that the Emperor's Lao Er's mate could hold himself back so much was a trait Chen Pingping's mate no doubt found impressive and desirable in the character of a son-in-law. 

He exhaled in a huff, and the slightest of headshakes. 

"Very well," Chen Pingping said. "Will you be giving me two hours to settle _myself_ or will I be here till tonight before I can start the preparations?"

Throwing his head back, the Emperor laughed. Then he pushed himself even further forward, hot breath ghosting over the thin skin of Chen Pingping's throat and clavicle before he said, voice a little muffled, "What need have you to return? Stay for the night."

"Wasn't Your Majesty planning to send troops to find the Temple of the Gods now that Fan Xian has told us where it is?" Chen Pingping barely managed to keep his voice steady. He dug his fingers into the sheets to stop himself from clutching at his Alpha's shoulders.

" _Has_ he said where it is?" 

"North," Chen Pingping said. "'The very northern edge of the world' were the precise words."

"Then," the Emperor nipped at his pulse, "it can wait."

"Your Majesty," Chen Pingping gave one last effort, "my heat is _over_."

"Are you _sure_?" And he was dragging teeth down over his skin.

An excess of restraint, Fan Jian had said, with that very measured caution of his, watching Chen Pingping watching him.

Chen Pingping wasn't sure he could even _imagine_ Li Yunxu with any sort of restraint.

Chen Pingping's any further attempt at protests were strangled in his throat at the flick of hot tongue at his pulse, and he gave up.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drelfina: congratulations! you have the rare Evocates-written sex scene!!!!
> 
> evocates: The Qing Emperor had never been given a name in either the show or the canon. In the words of the original author, Mao Ni, he did not need a name, because he would be referred by everyone as "His Majesty." So, I had to give him a name: 李云旭 (Li Yunxu) which means either "to speak of the rising dawn" or "to be akin to a cloud lit by the rising dawn." I prefer the first option. Also, this means that, given that we're using the show's canon and the Elder Princess isn't related to him by blood, she changed her name to match his after he adopted her as sister.
> 
> Chen Pingping (陈萍萍) is a name given to him by Ye Qingmei. Even in omegaverse, his original name is Chen Wuchang (陈五常), which refers to the Five Virtues in Confucian philosophy. It is a very, uh, ambitious name. Anyway, the Emperor's nickname for him, Xiaochangzai (小常在), is based on one of the lowest ranks for concubines in the historical Qing (清) dynasty: Changzai (常在, "frequently present.") In essence, the Emperor is making a pun, using Chen Pingping's original name to remind him of their shared history, and calling him his cute little concubine all at once.
> 
> Drelfina watched the show in English. Evocates watched the show in Chinese. >_>


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out why Fan Xian has a nickname and more plotting happens. 
> 
> Fan Xian earns his place as the Director of the Investigative Bureau.

The first inkling Fan Xian had that something might not be right was when he walked into the Investigative Bureau one day to see everyone looked tense. And he really meant _everyone_ – even the Yan father and son duo of wooden block faces looked extra constipated.

"Uh," Fan Xian squinted at them. "Is there something wrong?"

Yan Bingyun shoved a bucket, of all things, into his hand, and stormed off. Yan Ruohai gave him one of those flat stares that made Fan Xian think that the old man wanted to see his head removed from his neck and mounted on the wall like some perverse decoration before he, too, left. Leaving Fan Xian holding a bucket.

It wasn't even a metaphorical bucket. It was a literal bucket. Made of wood. With nothing inside. Fan Xian peered at it.

Were they hoping that he would wear it over his head?

Yan Bingyun hadn't seemed to warm much more to him since that last attempt to remove him from this plane of existence, but Fan Xian didn't blame him. Poor fuck had been tortured for months, and then Fan Xian had been... uh, having his _revelations_ in his face. Wang Qinian and Teng Zhijing had learned to take it in their strides, but Yan Bingyun wasn't quite used to Fan Xian's thought processes.

Still, considering that over the course of the last month or so, he'd stopped _trying_ to exit the room via the window every time Fan Xian entered, Fan Xian was counting that as progress. Mostly because he and Yan Bingyun were constantly assigned to little projects that pretty much felt like high school homework together. It would have been tough to do a presentation with the assigned partner defenestrating himself each time, to push the metaphor a little, so pretending to be a block of wood or part of the wall was a definite improvement on that than when they'd first gotten back.

Niang was not subtle, Fan Xian thought, he didn't know why anyone thought he was — he obviously hoped that Yan Bingyun and Fan Xian would work together, like how the other officials in the Investigative Bureau usually had partners or squads.

But this was not a partner report thing, at least.

Fan Xian took the bucket with him as he went to Niang's office, leaving the bucket by the door as he went in.

"Niang," he said, "What was it you wanted to see me for this time?"

As much as the Chairman had kept trying to dissuade him from using that term, he sure as hell wasn't going to stop. It made both of them too happy for him to use it, the bloom of warmth in his chest when he saw that smile on the Chairman's face at hearing the word was definitely too soft and sweet, and he hadn't had a mother of his own for so long.

That, and he was hopeful that this time, Niang had news that his marriage to Wan'er would finally proceed.

The Chairman opened his mouth, and then immediately ducked his head down and shoved a hand over it. His shoulders hunched forward, and Fan Xian immediately understood what the bucket was meant for.

He had to run back to scoop up the thing and thrust it at his Niang, who took it and practically shoved his entire face inside, gagging hard enough to make Fan Xian wince just to hear it. Only once, though, then he was crossing to the other side of the desk, grabbing the arms of the heavy and unwieldy wheelchair with both hands and jerking it to face him. He ignored the way the Chairman was shaking his head – how could he _not_ worry, throwing up like this was entirely _unnatural_ , and the Chairman's health had never been great! – and took one thin wrist within his own fingers.

The pulse ran a little too fast, and the skin was a little cold. Fan Xian growled, looking around him for a blanket. He found one, tucked discreetly at the corner of the desk, just within reach, and almost reached out with one hand when the rhythm of his Niang's pulse actually registered in his mind. That was... this was...

His knees hit the ground. Then he scrambled back to stand, rushing to the corner where, yes, he _knew_ the Investigative Bureau had figured it out long before him and made preparations. He grabbed the pot of tea and its accompanying cups and brought them over to the desk, pouring a little out and waited until the dry heaves ended and he could hand his Niang the tea.

"I," he said, "am going to _castrate him_."

"Please don't," the Chairman said, and drained the tea with one gulp. He gave Fan Xian a smile that did not hide how pale and wan he looked. "That'd be treason, and I like having you alive and right here with me."

"I can yell at him," Fan Xian said with remarkable restraint, considering that his Niang was so frail, and the _asshole_ had put him in heat and then banged him pregnant. "I'll even do it in private."

The Emperor had children enough, he didn't need _more_ , did he?

This entire month, he'd been kept so busy with the Investigative Bureau, he really only had time to parkour himself into the Imperial Residence to see Wan'er for an hour or two before she went to bed, and he had no time to discuss anything with the Second Prince at all.

Since the only attempts on his life this month came mostly from Yan Ruohai's attempts to learn pyrokinesis using his head as target practice, it seemed like the Prince was content enough to wait. Xie Bi'an had been granted another two ranks and the whole of the capital was holding their breath waiting for that marriage announcement _any_ time. Word on the street was that the Second Prince was pouting and probably fussing about the actual ceremony, but Fan Xian was sure that the Prince was waiting for Fan Xian's promised help, because said marriage would paint a bigger target on Xie Bi'an's back instead.

He refocused on his Niang, tucking the blanket a little better around his knees, higher up around his waist, and reached to pat those thin shoulders, feeling his Niang's breathing slow.

"What," he asked, snarl vibrating in the base of his chest, "was that old bastard thinking?"

His Niang's breathing was still rather shaky, and the grip of his hand on Fan Xian's sleeve was weak enough that it took almost all of Fan Xian's willpower to not immediately barge into the Palace with one of those guns from his old woman's box to shoot that aforementioned old bastard in the face. Because, really, what the _hell_ was the reasoning for making his Niang carry another child with his precarious health, especially when the fucker _wasn't_ taking care of the children he already had?

Then his Niang spoke, and Fan Xian's brain froze like one of those computer screens turning blue: "A solution to the Second Prince's problem."

"Wait," Fan Xian asked, pulling back to stare at his Niang. "What?"

"You're smart enough, Xian'er," his Niang said, using the nickname that made Fan Xian's chest warm from the core, because it was so affectionate and, look, he was a child who grew up without a mother, okay? He knew his weakness, and he was perfectly happy to let his Niang exploit it. "You understand exactly why the Emperor hadn't deposed the Crown Prince yet."

Yes, Fan Xian understood: the Crown Prince was the Empress's son. More than that, there was no one else – no Prince, no Consort – who could replace the Crown Prince and the Empress. No one that his bastard of a father could elevate high enough to threaten the Empress's position _and_ be able to survive the intrigues and politics and murder attempts that would surely follow.

No one, Fan Xian thought, staring at his Niang with wide eyes, except for the omega who could out-plan and out-plot even the Emperor himself if he tried hard enough.

"He's putting _you_ in the crossfire," Fan Xian protested anyway. "Niang. he's literally putting _you_ physically, in her crosshairs!"

Niang only blinked once before he knew he'd used yet another, well, Ye Qingmei term. Thanks downloaded brain.

"You're... like this," he didn't have to wave his hand, because oh, he suddenly could understand the way the Investigative Bureau had been… tiptoeing so gingerly around their Chairman for the past week or so, when he must have started showing symptoms.

Why didn't any of them tell him this sort of shit? This was his _Niang_.

"Yes," his Niang said wryly, "and therefore vulnerable enough for anyone to risk such an attempt."

Wait. Wait a goddamned fucking—

"He _wants_ her to try to kill you?" he yelped.

"A little louder, Xian'er," his Niang drawled. "I don't think Her Majesty in the Palace heard you clearly enough."

Fan Xian huffed, scrunching his face up as he gave up on holding back to urge to flop down to sit on the floor. "Niang," he said, and barely managed to keep himself from whining. "He's putting you in danger."

"Yes," the Chairman said agreeably, and poured tea for them both. "Danger that I know perfectly well how to deal with."

"It's... argh," Fan Xian said and realised, "Oh, then it's good at least you're here," he decided.

Because the Investigative Bureau was protective as fuck, and they obviously had realised what it meant if their Chairman was ill like this. Pregnant like this. And they would have arranged everything to be keeping him safe...

Except this was a little smooth, wasn't it? Very smooth, this didn't seem to be more than the first month – maybe only the first few weeks at most. It wasn't like he felt many pregnant people's pulses but that had been very faint, though not undetectable.

They couldn't have planned to have — he thought back to the many buckets that he thought he'd seen a whole bunch of First Division officers toting, and the fact that the tea set had – He leaned over to check, yes, a very mild scent and liquor that was very soothing to sensitive tongues.

And he _had _definitely noticed the Head of the Eighth Division had been seen more often outside of his cave – other omegas tended to be more soothing and comforting if the pregnant omega couldn't have their Alpha mate with them around all the time.__

__.... This had been planned. More than that, they had a _standard operating procedure_. They _knew_... this was not the first time it'd been done...!_ _

__"I'll be entering the Palace soon," Niang said placidly, and Fan Xian's brain derailed abruptly._ _

__"What?! Niang, _no!_ "_ _

__"It's necessary," his Niang told him, lips twitching up very slightly. "And I'm sure that you'll handle the Bureau just fine once I retire and hand it over to you."_ _

__Wait, what? Fan Xian gaped. "Niang, that's—" he started. _I don't want to head the Investigative Bureau_ , he wanted to protest, _because I want a normal life_. But then again, hadn't he made a vow back in Beiqi? He wanted to find out how his old woman, who was practically a god, had died, and that was a secret that required the clearest of the highest-ranked officials in the country._ _

__Not the Prime Minister; Wan'er's father clearly was not privy to such secrets. No, he had to be the Chairman of the Investigative Bureau, and the Head of the Neiku. That was the only way he could solve the mystery of his old woman's death. That was the only way, he recalled grimly, he could ensure that deaths like Teng Zhijing's wouldn't be easily swept away._ _

__But... so soon? He swallowed. "I thought the Chairman position is meant for omegas." He kept his tone as light as he could; he didn't want his Niang to worry over his distress, because he clearly had enough to deal with. "Or betas. Haven't you heard that Alphas aren't good at these things?"_ _

__"No," his Niang said, smiling at him in a way that Fan Xian _knew_ meant that he was being funny and childish. "I haven't heard."_ _

__"Put three Alphas in a room, and the betas outside do the work, and the Alpha who is still alive at the end gets the credit," Fan Xian said, alluding to the various fights he'd had the privilege of witnessing Xie Bi'an get into when he got his hackles up (he would forever prize the image of Yan Xiaoyi getting his face pounded into the dirt) in Beiqi and the whole time he'd been seconded to the Ministry of Rites as a diplomat._ _

__(He'd gotten absolutely nothing done; the actual beta diplomats had done all the wrangling, the yelling, the arguments and the discussion, he had sat there and looked pretty. And he had gotten the credit. For fuck's sake, Alphas were useless.)_ _

__"But I can't head it a year from now!" he said, trying another tact._ _

__"It won't be a year," His Niang said, still smiling at him. "It's in five more months."_ _

__"Niang!" Fan Xian barely kept himself from shrieking. "How am I supposed to—" He clicked his teeth back together, staring at his Niang._ _

__Very pale, with a hint of cold sweat beading his temples, and fuck, he had more grey hair than the Emperor did even though Fan Xian was _sure_ that the Emperor was older. His bastard of a birth father had the unaging genes of a demon, while his Niang had likely been stressed to aging faster because of his job, and now the pregnancy..._ _

__Five more months, Fan Xian thought. If he was correct and this baby (his _younger sibling_ , his mind shrieked at him) had been in existence for no more than a few days past one month, then it meant that his Niang would be moved to the Palace once the first two trimesters were over. Meaning that the Empress's attempts to his life, and the kid's life, wouldn't affect him that badly because the miscarriage risk would be lower (though the risk would be for a preterm labour instead). And, of course, all those months would let Fan Xian take charge of the Investigative Bureau while his Niang was still here to supervise him._ _

__Fuck, Fan Xian thought to himself. This was actually _well-planned_ , with all of the bits and pieces fitting together in perfect unison._ _

__"What if," he said cautiously, "I refuse to take over?"_ _

__"Then I am sure we will find another way to help the Second Prince," his Niang said, still smiling ever so placidly, and Fan Xian tried not to whine._ _

__The Chairman wouldn't force him. The Chairman wouldn't even use threats like his bastard father would, and had, because the Chairman wasn't the kind._ _

__His Niang, he thought, just knew him _very_ well, and it should scare him, how well he was known to someone else, stripped bare to the bones and his every logical thought and known and understood to this person; even the fact that Chen Pingping would know precisely how he would jump and how far._ _

__But he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth mixed in with a terrified worry for his Niang's safety._ _

__Perhaps it was the Alpha in him, because his Niang was a vulnerable, _pregnant_ omega. Of course he had to do anything for him to be safe._ _

__His Niang laughed, a soft, pleasant sound that made whatever anger that Fan Xian was trying to muster evaporate faster than a puddle of dog pee in the middle of a scorching hot day. Fingertips – once-callused and rubbed smooth over the years, and sometimes stained by ink – brushed over the top of his head, and Fan Xian gave in the urge to drop his head on top of his Niang's lap._ _

__"I'm worried," he said softly. "I don't want to ruin what you've spent so long building up." He sighed, and peered up to the person he had seen as his birth mother – minimal, mitochondrial genetic contribution notwithstanding – ever since he figured out the truth of his birth from Xiao En. "And I don't want to leave you alone in the Palace, either."_ _

__"The Empress has not plotted in a long time," his Niang told him, "and she has few allies. The only one of any significance is the Empress Dowager, and she had never had much influence on His Majesty, and she knows that well enough." He paused. "And if you are worried that you will not do well in this position, I can ask you a question, and show you exactly why you're good for it."_ _

__Fan Xian blinked. "Just one question?"_ _

__"Just one," the Chairman nodded, leaning forward. "You see, even if the Empress is deposed, the Crown Prince still has followers, and the people need to be given an explanation, or at least an ending." His lips twitched up. "If you can't kill him, what can be done with him, and how?"_ _

__"Are you _sure_ I can't just feed him to Xie Bi'an to be stabbed full of holes?" Fan Xian asked, without much rancour or heat. He knew it was a silly answer that wouldn't be taken seriously. "It'd be a great ending for that disgusting brat."_ _

__He sighed and leaned his head towards his Niang's armchair, leaning his temple against the arm, letting its corner dig into his head, the edge giving him a bit of focus to think on the problem._ _

__"Marry him off," Fan Xian said finally. "To a highly ranked Alpha – Alpha female would be best but—” the only one he knew was Haitang Duoduo and good lord she didn't deserve that shit. She also would come and personally castrate Fan Xian for that suggestion. "... in another country. To show that Qing is willing to make peace a permanent thing."_ _

__"Mm," his Niang nodded, and Fan Xian barely managed to keep himself from making a tiny happy sound when he felt his Niang's hand gently stroking through the ends of his loose hair. "If it's another country, then it would be Beiqi or Dongyi. And if you mention peace, that means Beiqi." He chuckled, low and soft. "Who do you think would be suitable?"_ _

__Who, indeed? Who would he be willing to inflict that brat upon? Someone who was strong-willed enough to hold his own, someone who wouldn't take any shit no matter how much said brat would try to throw his rank of a previous Crown Prince and son of an Empress around... And that person couldn't be _too_ intelligent, or else they would be either bored or frustrated to tears after days, much less years, with that idiot..._ _

__In the end, there really was only one choice._ _

__"Shangsan Hu," he said. Then he lifted his head and grinned at his Niang. "If Lao San marries him, then I might actually find out if Shang or Shangsan is his surname."_ _

__"It's Shangsan," his Niang told him, solving the mystery handily. "Haven't you heard Xiao En calling him 'Hu'er'? That means 'Hu' is his name, and Shangsan is his surname."_ _

__"Oh," Fan Xian said. "I actually didn't notice. Thanks, Niang."_ _

__Another soft laugh, and his Niang gave him a smile so fond that he couldn't help but widen his own grin. "And," he said, "the Crown Prince is not Lao San—"_ _

__"I know, I know, he's supposed to be out of the order because of his position, but—"_ _

__"Because _you_ are Lao San," his Niang finished, and grinned at him out of the corner of his mouth. Fan Xian gaped, staring at him. "You're a few months older than him, and two years below the Second Prince, making you His Majesty's third child. The Crown Prince is, if considered in terms of age, the _fourth_."_ _

__"... I just got demoted!" Fan Xian exclaimed in dismay. He'd gone from being the wise protective oldest brother to a third son. He had been shoved into the middle of a bunch of siblings._ _

__Sad face emoji._ _

__And now he had two omega siblings, with no authority to take care of the older one, because the Second Prince was older than him._ _

__Bah._ _

__His Niang's grin widened, slant-wise and just a hint of teasing._ _

__"It's not so bad, is it?" he said. "Your little sister and brother still would listen to you."_ _

__Fan Xian pouted at his Niang._ _

__"So it was a good answer?" he said instead._ _

__"Mm," his Niang said._ _

__"The Grand General Shangsan Hu is significantly older than that brat," Fan Xian said after a moment. "I hadn't checked if he'd married before —"_ _

__"He's not married," his Niang said, still amused._ _

__Fan Xian stuck out the tip of his tongue. "Niang, it's not fair that you're asking me to strategize without access to the entire file. Anyway, since he's not married, the brat might try his wiles on him, but Shangsan Hu has the experience of dealing with many younger beta men, even Alphas, under his command. He can handle one little spoiled brat."_ _

__It was easy to call the Prince – Lao _Si_ – a brat now, when he knew that the Emperor and his Niang were taking care of it, already in the works of stripping the brat of his rank and thus most of his power._ _

__"And that," his Niang said, smile softening at the edges, "is exactly why I think the Bureau would be fine in your hands."_ _

__"Bwah?" Fan Xian said intelligently._ _

__"To know the hearts of people," the Chairman continued, leaning back against his chair, "and to predict them accurately based on the scant information you have... that is what is necessary to command _any_ group of people, much less the Investigative Bureau. To be able to predict a person's actions from _afar_ , now, that closer approaches the skills required. But the most important ability, Xian'er, that you have and few people do is..." His smile widened and he tilted his head, practically whispering into Fan Xian's ear like he was divulging a great secret:_ _

__"Doing all that, planning for and manipulating the actions of others, while knowing that the actions you chose for them are those they would choose for themselves, if they had been aware that this was a choice that could be made." His shoulders returned to the back of the wheelchair. "Or will you tell me that you didn't suggest Shangsan Hu thinking that the Crown Prince might eventually find happiness with him, and thus be entirely deterred from any attempt to use Beiqi's army to go against our great Qing?"_ _

__Fan Xian gaped at him for a few long moments._ _

__There were half a dozen other Alphas he could have picked. Beiqi's Jianghu was literally _awash_ with them. There was even the not-so-pathetic Guo Baokun who was Lao Si's follower; he wouldn't have said no to that marriage._ _

__But the brat wouldn't have been happy, being a subordinate wife in that situation, when it was a huge shame to be a Prince and expecting to be the next Emperor, and now to be just some Alpha's wife._ _

__Shangsan Hu had some political clout and rank, enough social status to satisfy the face-conscious Prince, and ... Shangsan Hu was the kind who would be gentle enough with a sheltered Prince, having not been himself being of a similar class, but yet not hold it against someone who _was_._ _

__If that even made sense._ _

__"I was thinking," Fan Xian said, faux-thoughtful, just to be a contrary child, the way it had never been fun to do with Uncle Wu Zhu, "more along the lines that it would be hilarious because the Prince would probably die of fright from the sight of Shangsan Hu's face."_ _

__"Entirely possible," his Niang said, nodding as if Fan Xian had said something of grave importance or absolute accuracy. "Or that he might be scared the very first time he hears Shangsan Hu shout, even if it's towards his men and not him."_ _

__He smiled at Fan Xian for long moments before he brushed his fingers over the sides of his face, right at his hairline where it was almost tickling. Fan Xian had to fight down the urge to start giggling, forcing himself to keep still instead at the suddenly-serious look in his Niang's eyes._ _

__"She would've been so proud of you," the Chairman said. "She wouldn't have shown it, and would have instead teased and harassed you until you felt the urge to either throw her out of a window or into a pond, but she would have been. So proud." His hand cupped the back of Fan Xian's neck, tugging lightly on the strands of his hair before he dropped the final bombshell:_ _

__"Like he is."_ _

__Fan Xian made a gargling noise._ _

__Feeling himself stare at his Niang, huge-eyed and wordless._ _

__His old woman being proud of him, he was fairly sure he knew it. She would have been pleased with whatever he did, he had a feeling she was just that sort of person._ _

__But the old bastard?_ _

__Really?_ _

__He _is_ proud of Fan Xian?_ _

__"Then why hasn't he let me marry Wan'er yet?" he blurted out like a dumbfounded fool._ _

__His Niang smiled in a way that Fan Xian had learned to recognise as a way to stifle the urge to laugh outright._ _

__"Once you marry Wan'er, you _will_ have to take over Neiku, because it's her dowry." Then he swept his arm out, indicating the Bureau, and..._ _

__Oh. Fan Xian sighed. "And no one wants me to have to learn to handle _both_ simultaneously," he said._ _

__"Mm," the Chairman made an agreeable noise. "Technically, both organisations are old enough and established enough that they, by right, have the full capability to run themselves. But you would be a new head, and entirely new to the organisation, which meant that plenty of your subordinates would want to test you." He tipped his head to the side._ _

__"One thing at a time is better, don't you think?"_ _

__"Division Head Yan already wants to set my head on fire," Fan Xian had to agree glumly. "But otherwise the rest of the organisation doesn't seem completely willing to throw me out the window with last night's dregs. They just won't stop calling me the mass hallucination, as if..."_ _

__He paused, and glanced up at his Niang, and his eyes narrowed a little._ _

__"As if?" his Niang prompted, still smiling like he wanted to laugh at Fan Xian._ _

__"They'd never said a thing about your pregnancy in my hearing," Fan Xian said slowly, "but they all react like they'd known what to do, because you _had_ been pregnant." _ _

___With me_. _ _

__"But they otherwise don't behave oddly, and pretend that there's nothing wrong with you... it's because _I_ was the pregnancy they all were pretending not to notice, Niang?"_ _

__"Not bad," his Niang said, an approving light coming to his eyes. "That's right: the last time this happened, there was no possibility of acknowledging that I was pregnant at all. Because," his fingers did their little thing at Fan Xian's hairline again, "I have no legal claim to you, since we do not share any blood."_ _

__He shook his head before Fan Xian could protest, and folded his hands on his lap. "And so, I said nothing, and made no announcements whatsoever, and the Bureau knew well enough that that meant that whatever that was happening _wasn't_ happening. I wasn't throwing up, I wasn't falling asleep in the middle of the meeting, I wasn't growing fatter in one very specific area..." his lips twitched up._ _

__"I'm not sure who started the name – I suspect the Third Division – but all of them started calling you a mass hallucination months before you were born. As the years went by, everyone who received high enough clearance to know such things were told that story, and then you arrived at the capital, and _everyone_ was told."_ _

__Fan Xian exhaled with a soft whine, leaning forward even as his Niang withdrew his hands. "It sounds completely horrible, though, Niang. Am I really going to be saddled with the name forever? Even Yan Bingyun who can't wait for me to fall over and break my neck wouldn't actually stab me because of that title."_ _

__It was one of those weird things all over again – to exist and not, to be and not to be, and it wasn't even Shakespeare. To be a beta Prince but also omega at once, to be the product of a pregnancy that everyone agreed didn't actually exist until he showed up and then Yan Bingyun attempted to commit suicide for harming the Chairman's mass hallucination._ _

__God this family. This whole organization._ _

__He'd say _this country_ , but everyone was also pretending the little Emperor of Beiqi wasn't an omega. _ _

___Hargh_._ _

__His Niang laughed at him again. But, this time, he paired that with another few strokes to Fan Xian's hair, which _did_ make him feel better, and he only let out a soft hum when Fan Xian wriggled around until he could lay his head on his Niang's lap._ _

__"So," he said eventually, "you're going to hand to me an organisation that calls me by a ridiculous nickname?"_ _

__"Mm."_ _

__"And you're not going to make any effort to force them to stop?"_ _

__"Of course not," the Chairman said, serene. "They have gotten used to the name; even Shadow has started using it, and he rarely uses anything but people's full names."_ _

__Fan Xian harrumphed. "Alright, _fine_ ," he said, peering up to his Niang. "I will just be His Excellency, the Mass Hallucination, forever, then."_ _

__"You _can_ try to make them stop," the Chairman said, smiling in a way that had Xian grinning back. "I won't guarantee that it will work, though; not until you have won them over entirely."_ _

__"Which I have five more months to do," he said. When his Niang made another one of those assenting hums, he sighed. "Niang, uh... am I allowed to ask if you... actually want to do this?"_ _

__The hand in his hair stopped. "What do you mean?"_ _

__"My little brother," he said. "Or little sister." Though he doubted that; the Emperor had sons, and _only_ sons. There were variations in terms of caste, but they were all, to one, boys with not a single daughter in sight. "It's... Your health really isn't very good, Niang."_ _

__"For your Er Ge," his mother said, slowly, thoughtfully, "this is the best plan. "_ _

__Which Fan Xian could agree to in theory: as the Emperor's official omega and mate, it made complete emotional sense for him to pull his omega into the Palace. Emperors might have many omega consorts and concubines, but not to mate them; an omega mate meant that the Alpha Emperor would end up being far too obsessed with just the one mate and the mate might well be burned out by too many heats, and result in the Emperor not having enough children._ _

__The bastard father already had several children and other consorts, so that limitation didn't apply._ _

__The limits... were on the Alpha. There was no contingency for the health of the _omega mother_ , and— and—_ _

__"But Niang," Fan Xian plaintively, "your health. Surely we can find some other way. Fake it, maybe."_ _

__"It's a bit late for that," his Niang said, definitely laughing at him now. "They're already right," he brushed a hand over his stomach, "here."_ _

__Fan Xian was so terribly tempted to whine again, but he knew there was no use. He could see from his Niang's eyes that he was determined to have this baby, that an omega's protectiveness over their chosen Alpha had already extended to their child._ _

__"Besides," the Chairman said, smiling softly down at Fan Xian, "no matter how difficult a pregnancy, no matter how much strain and suffering I might have to go through, I know it's worth it." He tugged lightly on Fan Xian's hair. "I have you as proof, after all."_ _

__Well, what could Fan Xian do to refute _that_? Sticking his bottom lip out, perhaps? Yeah, maybe he'd do just that._ _

__"Can I still come to see you in the Palace?" he asked._ _

__"Technically," the Chairman started._ _

__" _Niang_..."_ _

__"If you wish such permission," his Niang said so gently, which meant that he had a terrible bombshell up his sleeve, "you will have to ask your father."_ _

__Fan Xian opened his mouth._ _

__"And not from yelling at him either."_ _

__"I have not yelled at him before," Fan Xian said indignantly._ _

__"Then you shouldn't start."_ _

__Fan Xian scrunched up his nose. Then he dropped his head back down on his Niang's lap and said, with feeling, " _Argh_." Then, grumbling, "He would have to call me in to the Palace first before I would have a chance to ask."_ _

__"Mm," his Niang agreed. "Do you think you won't get to see him for five months?"_ _

__"I'm pretty sure I'd see him before the week is up," Fan Xian sighed._ _

__"Then you should start preparing your script to ask."_ _

__"Do I get any help? Any hints?"_ _

__"No," his Niang said, laughing at him again. "Because you don't need any."_ _

__"Oh." His Niang was likely right about that. "Fine."_ _

__He usually was, about people._ _

____

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* * *

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sniggers so hard* 
> 
> poor Li Chengqian.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Drelfina: 
> 
> In case anyone wants to know: 
> 
> Lao Da 老大: Eldest Prince, Li Chengzhong  
> Lao Er 老二: Second Prince, Li Chengze  
> Lao San 老三: Actually it's Fan Xian lolololol. Apparently his name if he was legitimate, according to the book , would have been Li Chengan.  
> Lao Si 老四: The Crown Prince Li Chengqian.  
> Lao Wu 老五: The youngest Prince, Li Chengping (李承平), son of Liu-guipin. :D (Thanks Evocates~!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we all get the explanation we have been waiting for: how the fuck does Fan Xian actually exist

Eventually, Fan Xian did pop over to the Second Prince's. Or, well, he tried to scale the walls of Chengze's residence, nearly had his knot sliced off by Bi'an, and was eventually invited to tea.

At least he brought the good news that he had asked the Chairman of the Investigative Bureau for help, and he had agreed.

Not that Chengze had expected anything else, especially after Bi'an had repeated for him, word for word, what Fan Xian had said that had resulted in him being stabbed by Yan Bingyun. So, now he just looked at him, and smiled, "Your mother said he'd help, then?" He popped a grape into his mouth.

Fan Xian flung his hands up. "Did everyone know but me?"

"Mm, I had my suspicions," Chengze said, and flashed Bi'an a smile when his Alpha glared at Fan Xian for trying to steal _his_ grapes. "It's difficult to keep track of the Chairman of the Investigative Bureau, but his partiality towards you had been obvious enough, and had raised enough eyebrows, that it didn't take much effort for me to figure it out."

Beside him, Bi'an made one of those micro-movements that Chengze had learned to read – the brief tightening of his fingers on his sword. He offered him a grape, trying to reassure him that while Chen Pingping was scary, he _wasn't_ the kind of man-eating monster that Bi'an had said people on the streets painted him to be.

Or, well, if he ate men, it was a metaphorical sort of eating, not the literal kind. He could see exactly why his father had been and was still so attracted to Chen Pingping.

(Look, Chengze's father was the _Emperor_. Avoiding thinking about one's parents having sex was something he didn't have the privilege of, because his father took a new Consort when Chengze was twelve and, lo and behold, he had a new brother the very next year.)

Fan Xian made a little frustrated noise, and Chengze put the grape on the table, leaving it for Bi'an, before nudging his plate of shanzhu towards Fan Xian.

"And you didn't say—" Fan Xian huffed and picked up a purple fruit and looked completely puzzled at it.

"You cut the skin open and eat the white soft flesh inside," Chengze said helpfully, leaning an elbow on the table, fingers curling loosely under his chin.

Fan Xian gave him a very suspicious look, and retrieved a knife from his boot.

"I didn't say?" Chengze prompted.

"—anything at all about it," Fan Xian said.

"There's no point saying anything until I had confirmation," Chengze said, and when Fan Xian had it peeled open, held out his hand expectantly.

Fan Xian stared at him for a long moment, before exhaling with a huff, and putting one white segment into his palm.

Heh. He knew it; Fan Xian couldn't help but indulge his omega sibling after all.

"But you didn't even say anything when you had confirmation," Fan Xian said, pointing at Chengze accusingly with a piece of shanzhu skin. "I know Xie Bi'an told you exactly what I said, which is how you even got your _confirmation_ in the first place, and that was more than a month ago!"

Xie Bi'an didn't move, but Chengze knew him well enough that he was resisting the urge to cut Fan Xian's hand off so that he would stop shoving that piece of skin this way. Chengze gave him a sweet smile, and then plucked the rest of the peeled shanzhu from Fan Xian's hand.

"Well," he said reasonably, "you didn't visit, so how could I tell you anything?"

Fan Xian made a choking sound, his expressive face going through several expressions at once.

"You could have come visited me, you always found a way to ambush me in the streets?"

Chengze popped a few of the shanzhu pieces into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, and then delicately spitting the seeds out into a plate set aside for that purpose.

"You were in the Investigative Bureau the entire time," he said, "Our father has said that the _Princes_ can't interfere with the Investigative Bureau." He considered his fingers, and then licked the remnants of the juices from it, just to see Fan Xian make a noise of frustration, but mainly because Bi'an's gaze was on his fingers and tongue. "I, an obedient child of my father, would _never_ disobey."

He tipped his chin up at Fan Xian and smiled. "So I couldn't go to you. Little brother."

Fan Xian pointed at him and shrieked, "You know about _that_ too?"

Chengze blinked. Of all things— "Are you suggesting, Fan Xian," he leaned forward, "that the Chairman of the Investigative Bureau, the _Emperor's Omega_ , cheated on him?" He arched a brow. "Of course, I have heard a lot of muttering about how Ye Qingmei was your mother, or your father, given that she was an Alpha woman—"

"She was," Fan Xian interrupted. "My mother, I mean."

"What," Chengze said.

"That," Xie Bi'an added, "is exactly what he said the last time, and it does not make more sense the second time around."

Chengze's brow furrowed a little. "You doubtlessly have a better explanation," he said. "You call the Chairman your Niang – it makes sense." It completely did make sense. Alpha father, omega mother, resulting in an Alpha Fan Xian. It was of course something they had all suspected, that Fan Jian had had an affair with Alpha, or else was covering up for a powerful Alpha who had a bastard he couldn't claim.

And Fan Jian had an entire platoon of Father's Imperial Guards seconded to him.

Who _else_ could have fathered the bastard he was raising?

Fan Xian made a noise and sat heavily, not kneeling in front of Chengze's table this time. "Alright, fine, here let me—"

He peeled open a shanzhu.

"So this is – Niang's – the Chairman's— uh. egg."

They all contemplated the white segments sitting in the thick purple rind. 

"So," Fan Xian continued, "this whole thing," he shook the shanzhu in Chengze and Bi'an's direction, "is the Chairman's egg." He let out a breath. "Okay, I said that already. Anyway, the inside of an egg contains information. Like books." He took out a piece of white flesh. "This is like a book, except it's not made of paper, and it entirely concerns how a child looks like, and bits and pieces of their personality, and what kind of diseases they might get as children or adults.... that kind of thing."

Chengze blinked slowly. "Egg," he pointed at the shanzhu. Fan Xian nodded encouragingly. "The inside of an egg... like a yolk?"

"Yes!" Fan Xian nearly shouted.

"And the inside of a yolk contains books," Chengze said, looking at Fan Xian carefully. "About how a child looks like."

"Exactly," Fan Xian grinned. "You're getting it!"

"I'm barely keeping up," Chengze said, and popped another grape into his mouth. "But go on."

"Okay, so, what my old woman— what Ye Qingmei did," he said, "was to remove the yolk-with-books-inside from the egg." He dug out all of the white flesh, and then tossed them at Bi'an, who caught them by instinct. Bi'an held out his hand, and Chengze delicately picked a seedless piece, and ate it. "Then," Fan Xian continued, "she took the yolk-with-books-inside from her own sperm, and then put it inside the egg."

He stole one of Chengze's grapes, and shoved it into the shanzhu.

"But an Alpha's seed doesn't have a yolk," Chengze said.

"I think I'm failing my biology," Fan Xian said nonsensically.

"But do go on, you've now stuffed the egg with grapes," Chengze said, and ate another piece from Bi'an's hand.

"The bas— the Emperor's grape— i mean seed," Fan Xian said, voice strained, and he picked up another grape, "was used to fertilize the Chairman's egg that now contains -"

"A grape," Chengze said.

"—Ye Qingmei's grap— I mean seed-information," Fan Xian said.

Bi'an blinked in a way that meant that he had entirely given up on understanding what was going on in front of him. Which Chengze could rather empathise with: he wasn't sure what Fan Xian was actually saying, but it was really funny just watching him struggle _to_ explain.

"So," Fan Xian said, gaining a rather desperate edge to his voice, "you have a fertilised egg," he shoved another grape into the shanzhu, "and that was me before I was, well, a person, and this," he shook the hand containing the shanzhu-with-grapes, "was placed inside the Chairman's body, and then he gave birth to me."

Chengze stared at that hand. Bright red grape juice was smearing all over Fan Xian's fingers, some of it pooling in the Alpha's palm. It was, he decided, a rather sad picture.

"All I understand," Chengze said, sipping his tea, "is that you mutilate fruits, and if that," he nodded at the carcasses of shanzu and grapes in Fan Xian's hand, "was how you were before you were born, there is no wonder that you are so strange."

"That," Bi'an said, voice very grave, "is the most reasonable sentence I have heard since Fan Xian appeared."

"You only ever would agree with His Highness," Fan Xian said, aggrieved.

Chengze reached up to poke warily at the shanzhu skin with a delicate fingertip.

One of the grapes popped out and Fan Xian yelped, fumbled with the mutilated shanzhu, and both grapes ended up falling into his lap.

"You're not supposed to play with your food, little brother," Chengze said, just as grave as Bi'an.

"I was not—" Fan Xian protested, and had to fish the grapes out of his lap. "You're not— argh, okay so that's just how it was, alright? Both Ye Qingmei and my father's seed were—"

"So Father and Alpha Ye had relations with your mother at the same time during a heat and that is why you're considered a child of both," Chengze said.

Fan Xian made a little noise and dropped his forehead onto the table. "Yeah. You can say that."

"That's so much simpler. Why didn't you just say that then?"

"Because the truth is much more complicated than that," Fan Xian groaned into the table. "But then again, the truth also involves my old woman and too much fruit mutilation, so fuck the truth, then."

"Please don't fuck the fruit," Chengze said. "I won't be able to eat it."

Fan Xian started hitting his head on the table. Bi'an looked very pleased by that, so Chengze fed him a grape.

"The question then," Chengze said, cheerfully morbid and possibly masochistic, definitely sadistic, "is how on earth the Alpha Ye and Father shared an omega without killing each other."

"Please don't make me think of my parents having _sex_!"

Chengze leaned forward, propping his chin in his curled hands, and grinned at the top of Fan Xian's head. "Little brother, I've had to think about my Imperial Father having sex since I was twelve. You're very lucky only to have to think about it now."

"I have a question," Bi'an said suddenly.

Fan Xian lifted his head up, and then let it smack back down onto the wood. "I have a bad feeling," he said.

Chengze gave Bi'an an encouraging smile, and it was all worth it when Bi'an said, "I don't understand Fan Jian's place in this entire affair." He crossed his arms. "You carry his name. Was he also part of the pile of bodies during your mother's heat? Is that how he gained the privilege of raising an Imperial bastard?"

Fan Xian's hand clenched on the table, knuckles very white. Chengze had to resist clapping his hands at the sight of it.

Fan Xian waved a purple stained hand at Bi'an. "You— what, why would you— why would you ASK THAT?! I thought you hated me!"

"It sounds like you have four parents," Chengze said, extremely thoughtful. He'd never had this sort of relationship with a younger sibling – his youngest brother was too young to tease, and...

The less said about his actual problem the better.

Fan Xian's fist turned up, one finger starting to rise up – then Fan Xian changed his mind and pressed his fist to the table with extreme control instead.

"You're both fucking trolls."

"What are trolls?" Chengze asked. "Do they belong to the same fairy world that your poems come from?"

Fan Xian stared at him. "You—" Exhaled. "You just made me think of trolls in the book of _Three Hundred Tang Poems_ , and now the image will not get out of my brain. Du Fu writing about trolls." He slapped his shanzu-and-grape-stained hand over his face, smearing red juice everywhere. "Ugh."

"You seem rather distressed," Bi'an said. He was definitely enjoying this. Chengze really wanted to kiss him.

"I am _very_ distressed," Fan Xian said, and scowled at them both.

Chengze gave him a winning smile.

It made his younger brother growl – it was the best thing ever. He'd never seen Fan Xian so flustered, not even in front of their Imperial Father.

Bi'an was not just enjoying it, there was that quirk of his smile that meant he was pleased and smug too, and Chengze reached out to take Bi'an's wrist. Just a quick touch, a flutter of his fingertips across Bi'an's pulse.

" _Argh!_ " Fan Xian said. "Do you have to – "

"To?" Chengze said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Fan Xian flapped his hands at them. "You two are so _cute_ ," he moaned, pulling his face down. "I want to die, you're too cute, ugh." He slumped on the table.

Chengze picked up a grape and threw it at him. "You're currently covered in grape juice," he informed Fan Xian, in case he wasn't aware. "It's a terrible fashion statement, and also looks like someone tried to brain you and you barely escaped being murdered again."

"Don't keep doing that," Bi'an added. "It's bad for your health."

The grape bounced off Fan Xian's hair. "What, you prefer to be the one to murder me?"

"Yes," Bi'an said. "That way I can be sure of the outcome."

Fan Xian rolled his head to squint at Bi'an. "You're teasing me, which means you like me."

Bi'an's smile immediately disappeared into the flat, icy mask he wore most days in front of other people. But he still had that little crease in his eyes that meant he was amused, so Chengze wasn't worried.

"If you died in my Prince's residence," Bi'an said, "It would look bad for my Prince."

Chengze couldn't help the warm little curl in his chest at that. He doubted he'd ever really get tired of Bi'an saying that, the little breath of possessiveness.

Picking the grape from where it had landed on the table, Fan Xian bit it into half viciously while glaring at the two of them. Then he spat out the seeds into his hand, dumping it into the saucer meant for those things, before he dropped his elbow onto the table and stared at the two of them.

"There's actually a plan to keep the two of you safe from," he tilted his head towards the East. "I haven't been explicitly told that I can't tell you, so I'm going to tell you." He gave them a crooked smile. "If you want to listen."

Bi'an went very still.

Chengze's breath hitched slightly in his throat. He bit the inside of his lip for a moment before he blurted out, "I'm still going to pay for the education of Teng Zhijing's son and sponsor your little brother's bookstore if it ever runs into the red."

"Like I said, you don't have to use them as a threat," Fan Xian said, and held up his hand to Chengze before he could open his mouth, "nor try to bribe me. I can do that, myself, for them, okay? I'll tell you the plan anyway."

Chengze shifted onto his knees, properly, dropping his hands down to his lap.

"I would do it anyway," Chengze said, "for you are my little brother, why wouldn't I take care of your family and the ones you care for?" Hope and fear clawed in his chest in equal measure, and he didn't quite dare to breathe.

"Yeah," Fan Xian said, his crooked smile widening even further, "I'd believe that when I've actually earned it." He grabbed another grape, tossing it up into the air and catching it, before he put it back on the plate. "If there's anything I've figured about what Our August Majesty the Great Emperor of Qing has taught those dearest to him, it is that such affection is weakness, weapon, or both." He sighed.

"Also, before I tell you guys, can I get, like, a cloth or something to wipe my face? My eyebrows are starting to itch."

Bi'an actually went and fetched him a napkin, Chengze didn't have to tell him to do so.

"You don't trust that I would keep my word?" Chengze said. "What would it take for you to believe it then?"

It had been threats, but— but...

Chengze couldn't beg help from the Chairman, but Fan Xian could. If Fan Xian decided not to help after all, then...

The Chairman could remove his help. Especially since Fan Xian was _his_ child. He was openly and blatantly partial to Fan Xian, after all.

He knew his younger brother the Crown Prince was afraid of the Emperor's Omega, and it was for good reason.

"Thanks," Fan Xian said to Bi'an, taking the cloth from him. Half of it was wet, and he used it to scrub at his face hard enough that some stray hairs started to escape from where he had pulled his hair up into a tail in the style of Alphas and beta men who had yet to reach their majority. Then, likely ignoring the fact that Chengze was nervous enough that he had started peeling his own grapes, he folded it and set it aside.

"It's not that I don't trust you," Chengze's immediate younger brother said, lifting his eyes to meet his squarely. "I can see exactly why you need my help, and _that's all I need_. No threats, no benefits, nothing."

Bi'an's expression didn't change, but Chengze understood: he was suspicious, too. There was nothing given for free in the world, especially in _their_ world within the terrifyingly-massive wings of the dragon that symbolised the Emperor.

"That's what I mean by affection becoming a weakness or weapon," Fan Xian said, dragging a hand over his face. "Just take my word for it, okay? You need my help, I can give it, so I will help." He gave Chengze a crooked smile. "Take it as an Alpha's prerogative to take care of his omega siblings."

Chengze tried to imagine Fan Xian in the role of his older brother; his Da Ge had always been the one to take care of him, to indulge him, and while it had been painful, these past few years after the harsh lesson that his Xiong Zhang had had to teach him on behalf of their Imperial Father, he would not have feared for his autonomy and independence and _safety_ if it had been his older brother as Crown Prince.

Fan Xian was not even a legitimate son – he could offer no such guarantee. But he had also shown he was indulgent and protective over his omega sister and beta half-brother; Bi'an had told him how angry his scent had been when he'd read the threat, but refused to look at the tokens he'd prepared.

"We didn't grow up together," Chengze said, dropping the skins of the grapes onto the plate, one by one, little wet splats on the ceramic. He dropped the skinned grapes after them, the fleshy globes rolling only to stop on the seeds of prior fruit. "I am only a sibling in word, and even then it's not something we will ever acknowledge."

Unless his father were to marry his omega, then there might be a chance he would acknowledge Fan Xian and grant him his surname...

...

Would he?

Would he do that? He'd actually given Fan Xian to his beta minister to raise and name. But he was eccentric enough to _mate_ his omega, and then not marry him. What if he decided to change his mind and marry Chen Pingping and bestow on him the title of Empress – and.

"Oh," he said, eyes widening. " _Oh._ "

"I'm pretty damned angry about this plan," Fan Xian said, staring at the pile of grape skins. "I know that my Niang has a reputation for being terrifying, but his _health_ is what terrifies me all the time. And His Great and Grand Majesty won't be coming down to visit him at the Bureau, or at his estate, or even at Taiping Residence. He won't have his Alpha with him for five entire _months_. Over half of his damned pregnancy."

Wait— _what_?

Chengze had thought— there were only two ways the Crown Prince could be unseated: first, if he committed a horrific crime; but he had always been too proper and too _cowardly_ to do such a thing. The second option would be to try to depose the Empress, and therefore unseat her son because her upbringing of him must be terrible if she had to be deposed, or some other reason like that. Chengze had thought that his Imperial Father and the Chairman were going for the second option: raise Chen Pingping to Empress, and make their son, Fan Xian, the Crown Prince. Which, given Fan Xian's protectiveness over omegas and indignance over the Crown Prince his brother's treatment of Chengze, wouldn't be such a horrible thing.

But it seemed that his Imperial Father and Chen Pingping were crazier than Chengze had imagined. Because, if he was reading Fan Xian's words correctly, Chen Pingping was _pregnant_.

And everyone knew just how much a pregnant omega without a constantly-present Alpha could and would suffer. Because omegas could only conceive when in heat, and heat was triggered by safety, and safety was impossible without _presence_. For an Alpha to have impregnated his omega and then left him entirely alone was...

Unthinkable. A horrific betrayal.

Chengze's hand found Bi'an's under the table, squeezing tight onto his fingers. He had ached enough when his Alpha had left to fight for the right to win him, and had felt his breathing grow heavy without the comfort of his mate's scent wrapped around him. If he had been _pregnant_...

"Why would he do such a thing?" he heard BI'an ask.

"If you mean the bastard leaving my Niang alone, you have to ask him," Fan Xian said, voice tight. "If you mean why now, you have to ask them. If you mean why my Niang would agree..." He sighed explosively. "I don't want to tell you."

"So, he's..." Chengze licked his lips, lifting his head to try to meet Fan Xian's eyes. "Father will raise the Chairman to be the Empress, and thus depose the current one, and unseat her son."

"Well," Fan Xian said, and shamelessly tried to steal one of Chengze's peeled grapes. When Chengze flicked a finger in the plate's direction, Bi'an withdrew his hand to let Fan Xian take one. "I think they're planning to let the Empress try to kill Niang first."

Chengze almost shrieked at that, jerking backwards.

Bi'an caught him, drawing him into a tight hold that was— He didn't think, immediately turning his face into Bi'an's chest, clutching at the fold of his uniform, taking quick, panicked breaths.

A murder attempt while pregnant.

He couldn't imagine it.

No. He could _imagine_ it very well, because he knew how much he wanted to bear Bi'an's child, legally.

History was written in the blood of numerous consorts and concubines, so many Imperial children dead before they were born, because the most vulnerable a consort could be was during pregnancy.

And he couldn't, couldn't imagine wanting to be with child, nurturing and keeping it safe, and then paint _himself_ as a huge target and—

Chen Pingping was _terrifying_.

And that was the kind of omega, Chengze thought, clutching onto Bi'an's sleeve, who was Fan Xian's _mother_.

No wonder Fan Xian had thrown himself into everything and flung expectations to the wayside like they were mere burrs in a field instead of the spiked chains that bound everyone else. No wonder Fan Xian had managed to chase the Elder Princess out of the capital city in a few short months and, as Bi'an had told him, to destroy the reputation and position of one the Beiqi's most dangerous officials with next to no resources in Beiqi.

Because his mother was Chen Pingping, and Chen Pingping took his omega nature and forged it into a weapon. Made himself into a weapon, all piercing steel and strangling silks, and though Chengze had raised an army, had thrown himself into the line of fire that was the Imperial succession struggle, he could not match up to _this_.

He turned his head and buried his face into Bi'an's neck, and tried to breathe. He could not, he realised, even make himself _want_ to match up to this.

"Uh," Fan Xian said, sounding confused, "did I say something wrong?"

Bi'an wrapped his hands around him; he could feel Bi'an tug just a little, and he curled to his Alpha, letting Bi'an bundle him into his lap, surrounding him with his scent while he tried to force himself to take deep gulps of air.

"Shh," Bi'an said, and it was nominally to Fan Xian, but the rumble of his words was comforting, and he could feel the beat of his Alpha's heart under his hand.

There was no way he could be anything like the to-be-Empress, Chengze thought. There was no way he could do something like this, flaunting weakness and turning it into a trap. A wanted, precious child with Bi'an would never be anything but something he could want to protect, not to risk like that. The thought of deliberately mating his Alpha, getting pregnant, and then utilizing it like the finest dagger to slice the incumbent empress to pieces was—

No. Unimaginable.

Unattainable. There was nothing that could make him want to do this without bursting into tears.

It took long minutes of him pressing close to Bi'an, reassuring himself that his mate was here, that he was safe, before he could pull away and try to maintain some sort of...of...

Distance.

Too late; Fan Xian looked concerned, and Chengze knew that he'd lost his dignity and any attempt to look like just an unaffected beta Prince would appear as what it was: an act, a facade.

"No," Chengze said, tipping his chin up. "You said nothing wrong. I should have expected... " his voice wobbled, he took a breath to steady it. "I should have expected the unthinkable from the Chairman."

For, if he forced himself not to flinch from the thought, it was more monstrously brilliant than his initial thought. No one else would believe it was a plan to tempt treason from the Empress, and therefore the Empress' action would be an act of the highest treason before the eyes of Heavens, and the country. There would be no question of the Empress being deposed, and with her, her son Li Chengqian. There was no flaw whatsoever.

Simply elevating his son Fan Xian – or his new infants – to the position of Crown Prince would merely be showing favoritism, and Chen Pingping had no noble lineage within the last several generations to speak of other than that he had been mate to the Emperor even before he had been Emperor. Being merely deposed meant that Chengze’s younger brother would be able to still fight for the throne, just switching the target to Fan Xian or the infants; this real, terrible, unthinkable plan meant that the Empress and her son would be _executed_ – or permanently rid of somehow – and Chengze would be safe forever.

... it was still terrifyingly unthinkable .

"What," Chengze said, hand tight on Bi'an's, and he wasn't bothering to hide it, "am I to do, in this plan?"

“Well,” Fan Xian said, still staring at him as if Chengze’s reaction was an anomaly, “I’ll need your help with two things. First,” one finger pointed upwards, “Niang is going to be moving to live in the Palace five months from now, and I want to have the ability to visit him whenever I want without having to sneak in like a thief.” He crossed one arm over his chest. “Or having to beg _him_ to give me access.”

There really was only one person, Chengze thought wryly, that Fan Xian always spoke about with such frustration and disrespect. Was it because he was raised in Danzhou and therefore had never witnessed the kind of power the Imperial family wielded on a regular basis, much less the Emperor himself? Or was it because he was, in his own words, a shanzhu with two grapes shoved inside? 

“I suppose I can find ways to visit my mother whenever you want to visit yours,” Chengze said, giving an exaggerated sigh. “What is the other thing?”

“How well do you know the workings of the Neiku?” Fan Xian asked.

“Some,” Chengze answered cautiously. “It had always been under my Aunt’s control; the most access I had to it were the accounts.” And, of course, the embezzled money from the Beiqi branch.

“I need you to help me familiar myself with its workings,” Fan Xian said. “I have a feeling that the bastard won’t let me marry Wan’er until I show myself capable of juggling both the Investigative Bureau _and_ the Neiku at the same time, which would take absolutely forever if I don’t get some help from someone who knows how it works. Or, hell, the list of products sold.” 

“That I know,” Chengze nodded. “But neither of these items have anything to do with the plan.”

“Oh,” Fan Xian blinked at him. “Yeah.” He waved a hand. “There’s nothing either you and I can do about that one, because Niang said that the fewer people who knew about its details, the better.” He paused, and then as if trying to reassure Chengze, “Neither the Empress nor Lao Si are going to die, don’t worry.”

"I wasn't worrying about that," Chengze said, because he wasn't. It was a very permanent solution to his problem that had started early enough that he _had_ had to move out when he wasn't quite yet fifteen.

There were things other than poisons that could be put into food and drink, and Chengze had been stupidly trusting when he was younger. 

But taking Fan Xian in when he wanted to visit his mother was doable. Easy, really, since Chengze's rank, as soon as he'd moved out, was high enough to let him always enter the Palace without having to seek permission first, he just had to send notice that he was visiting his mother – and was bringing a visitor. Trying to seek an audience with his _Father_ was something else, but neither Fan Xian nor Chengze were entering the Palace to see, in Fan Xian's words, His August Majesty the Emperor their Father. 

The Neiku was something else; with his Aunt banished from the Capital, there was a temporary Head running it. He wasn't particularly loyal to Chengze's Aunt, but the beta didn't adore Chengze either. 

Still, maybe Fan Xian would be able to win him over with his… unique charm and – Chengze eyed the mutilated sad shanzhu — shanzhu-ness. 

"I can introduce you to the accountant," he said finally. "It would just be logical – you are after all the Minister of Revenue's son, even if you also are in the Ministry of Rites." 

Fan Xian narrowed his eyes at him. "Is this one of those 'exist and doesn't exist' things?" he demanded incomprehensibly. "I am the son of the one up there," he flapped his sleeve in a somewhat-upwards direction, "but you also see me as my father's son?"

Chengze blinked back at him. "That's what you literally just _said_ ," he pointed out. "Our Imperial Father is your father – birth father, if you want to use a specific term – but Fan Jian is _also_ your father – you carry his name, you live in his house, and you are acknowledged as elder brother by his legitimate and trueborn children. _How_ are you not his son as well?"

Fan Xian opened his mouth. Closed it. His chin hit the table with a soft thud. "I still can't believe I have that many parents," he said. "I went from having _zero_ —"

"What?" Bi'an interrupted him.

"I knew my parents existed but I knew absolutely nothing about them," Fan Xian waved a hand. "And I lived in Danzhou with my grandmother, whom I saw only at mealtimes, and my, uh.... my uncle, I guess you could say? He calls himself my old woman's servant, but I suspect that they were friends or something like that—"

" _Shadow_ was in Danzhou with you?" Bi'an's eyes were very wide.

"What?" Fan Xian's head jerked up. "No! No, no, no! When I say my old woman, _'Lao Niang'_ , I mean Ye Qingmei! That's how she referred to herself and that's how I have _always_ used to talk about her. The Chairman is _Niang_. Totally different."

Chengze tried to not point out that, essentially, the terms were almost exactly the same. _Lao Niang_ was simply a rude version used by peasants and merchants, while _Niang_ was a term used by everyone, including Imperial sons who hadn't reached their majority. Oh, and Da Ge, but Da Ge never acted according to the austere expectations of the Imperial family anyway. He sometimes still called their Imperial Father "Dad" to his _face_.

Anyway, he focused back on Fan Xian. "You have nothing to say about Neiku?" he asked pointedly.

"Huh?" Fan Xian blinked up at him. "Meeting the accountant is a great plan, wonderful idea, I owe you a million taels of silver?"

" _Where_ would you have stashed a million taels of silver?" Chengze said, eyes narrowing at him.

Fan Xian blinked again. "It was an exaggeration," he said, a little plaintively. "Why do you take everything I say so seriously?"

"You use rut-inducing drugs," Bi'an said, and he still hadn't moved from where Chengze had his hand in his, his warm steadying presence a pillar that Chengze could never do without. "Everything you say is a threat."

Fan Xian made an aborted gesture at him.

"And you had been running around all of the Capital _using_ your father's name," Chengze added. "It is obvious you acknowledge Minister Fan Jian as your father."

"Wouldn't it be more accurate to say that he acknowledged me as his son?" Fan Xian asked. "Since I don't know any better?" He spread his hands out. "All children have to take their parents' word that they are their parent's child, after all."

"How could you have _not_ known that Fan Jian wasn't your father?" Chengze asked, curious despite himself. "He's a beta, and you're an Alpha. Unless—"

"Yeah," Fan Xian interrupted him, smiling sheepishly. " _That_ was exactly what I thought until the truth dumped itself on my head."

"The truth you yelled at that spy's face until he stabbed you out of sheer self-defense," Chengze said.

Fan Xian opened his mouth to defend himself, then shut it. Good; there was no defense for his unique behaviour anyway.

"Does that mean your shanzhu should have another grape?" Chengze asked.

"My what?"

"Another grape. Inside. Three grapes," Chengze said.

Fan Xian's face went through a series of contortions that, Chengze suspected, were entirely unique to him. "That's just— that—" he spluttered. "My Dad and my Niang and," his hands flailed around uselessly. " _ARGH_." He smashed his face on the table.

Chengze blinked at him, and then turned to Bi'an. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Bi'an said, and the slight crease at the corner of his eyes deepened as he met Chengze's eyes. "He does this rather often."

This was the longest conversation Chengze had with him. He contemplated Fan Xian smacking his face on the table, and with his free hand, plucked another grape up, about to eat it, then eyed the shanzhu, before holding it out to Fan Xian.

"Maybe that's why you're so unique," he offered to Fan Xian. "you are too full of grapes."

Fan Xian held up a hand to him, all fingers folded down with only the middle standing up. Chengze blinked again.

"I can cut that off," Bi'an said, voice contemplative, "if that's what you're offering." Fan Xian's other hand mirrored the same gesture.

Chengze ate another grape.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drelfina: so this is the actual explanation for Fan Xian's birth. It's an actual process, currently sort of *possibly* used for [Mitochondrial replacement therapy](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitochondrial_replacement_therapy), but it's also one of the main theoretical processes for having three parents, or having two fathers' somatic DNA without doing some magic and making one father produce an egg cell somehow. An example is [here](https://www.livescience.com/63877-two-dad-mice.html) as done with mice. With mammals of course, there is the issue with parental imprints in the DNA of their gametes, which actually has problems for the development of the embryo. 
> 
> Since this is a technical sci-fi canon, we can hand wave that YQM has been able to fix these problems, and thus Fan Xian is actually a child with 3 parents: he has YQM and Bastard Alpha's somatic DNA (the usual thing when you think of when you say DNA), but he has CPP's mitochondrial DNA (Mitochondria is passed only via the egg-cell, not via the sperm, which is how we actually track the number of *women* in any one population, or track women historically. Mitochondrial DNA is more stable than the Y-chromosome, for one, and thus you can check maternal lines better than paternal lines.)
> 
> It's just that in this setting, with "medieval" Chinese style ideas of blood and lineage, it's not a surprise that CPP doesn't believe he has any claim to Fan Xian – he has no 'blood' ties, as far as he thinks, and treats himself as just an incubator. Fan Xian, and YQM, would not believe he has *no* claim at all. 
> 
> Also, a bird's egg is an egg-cell as is. The yolk is there for providing food for the developing chick – but the nucleus/dna containing bit isn't _in_ the yolk per se. Which is why Fan Xian is having such issues explaining. He should have made a microscope and then shown XBA and SP some onion cells LOLOLOLOL.
> 
> This is also one of my favourite scenes, because i said, "evocates, he's going to cut open a mangosteen to demonstrate AND STUFF IT WITH GRAPES" 
> 
> And then it all went DOWNHILL FROM THERE LOL.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Also Fan Jian is now Minister, because during the tv show when Fan Jian came in to have a yell at the Emperor about the sending Fan Xian to Beiqi, the emperor basically threw a promotion at Fan Jian and told him to go away. he hasn't rescinded that promotion, so Fan Jian is very grouchily an actual full Minister.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we once again fill one fucking chapter with just one scene of _talking_ , Ning-cairen gets an entire scene, we learn just how someone who is married to the emperor might view said emperor, we get xie bi'an's adorable POV again. 
> 
> Fan Xian is just an afterthought lol

Xie Bi'an was told by his Shifu, after his fortnightly spar with her, that she wanted to see both his Prince and Fan Xian. 

"I know that he comes in with Ze'er," Ning-cairen said, tossing her staff to the side. "So it should be easy enough for them both to come visit me." 

"When?" Bi'an asked, not even asking her reasons.

"As soon as possible. Tomorrow, probably." 

Bi'an nodded, bowed, and went to tell his Prince that they had a visit to make to the Palace tomorrow. 

"Ning-cairen wants to see _me_?" Fan Xian blurted out the moment he was told.

They had caught him on the way to the Investigative Bureau, all of his hair bunned up and dressed in nothing but plain, stiff-looking linen. He had been looking like that more and more often later, the usual casualness of his appearance replaced by something more stoic that was, Bi'an suspected, an attempt to look more adult so that the members of the Bureau would listen to him.

His Prince had mentioned: once the Chairman reached his sixth month of pregnancy, Fan Xian would be taking over entirely. If Bi'an hadn't gotten his dates wrong, there were only two weeks left.

"Why would she want to see me?" Fan Xian was now saying, eyes wide. "Is it about Wan'er? Did she think back on our first meeting and now realised that I'm not good enough and she's going to convince His Majesty to cancel our engagement? Is that it? Am I going to have to fight a martial arts competition to win the right to her hand? Is that what Ning-cairen wants of me?"

Bi'an blinked slowly.

"When I lent you those novels," his Prince said to Fan Xian, sounding extremely amused, "I did not expect them to seep into your mind that quickly."

"I didn't even read those— those _things_!" Fan Xian hissed, shoving his face forward. Barely deterred by the sword that Bi'an had thrust into his face, he continued, "I'm just genre-savvy!"

"She didn't say why she wants to meet you," Bi'an said, ignoring the garbage coming out of Fan Xian's mouth with the ease of forceful habit. "Only that she does." He lowered his hand. "We should get a move on so we don't make her wait."

"Yes, don't make her wait," Fan Xian said, and blinked when he realised that his Prince actually intended to walk.

"Don't you have a carriage for this sort of thing?" he blurted out.

"Do you know how much time it takes to clear the streets for a _carriage_?" his Prince said, flicking his hand and starting to turn to the Palace. "Besides, I hear you have qing'gong, you can run easily."

"That's not the point -" Fan Xian said.

"I keep the carriage for Bi'an so he doesn't get tired," his Prince said, flippantly, only glancing very slightly at Bi'an from the corner of his eyes.

He could see the very soft, very faint smile tucked into the edge of his smile, just for him, and Bi'an couldn't help but shake his head mentally, the very faint warmth of indulgence spreading in his chest. His Prince didn't like the pomp and fuss of hundreds of guards and very likely, the tedium that came with being stuck in a carriage. He'd said, before, that a journey wasn't just about the destination, but the actual journey too.

And the only time he'd seen that carriage in use was when Bi'an'd left for Beiqi bare months ago; when Chengze had insisted on being his omega mate, dressing as such for his eyes only.

Fan Xian's eyebrow twitched. "Is it too much to ask," he said through gritted teeth, "that you two don't _do that_ in front of me?" He slumped forward, shoulders hunching. "Unlike you two, _I_ can't see the person I love most every day, and my wedding date keeps getting postponed further and further and..." he tailed off into a high, whining noise.

But he kept on walking, so Bi'an supposed there was no reason for him to be beaten on the head with a sheathed sword.

"I don't know what you're talking about," His Prince said.

Despite his words, Bi'an had already cleared the streets ahead, and had the rest of the guards do so for their route towards the Palace. It wasn't too long a walk, really, at least Fan Xian walked along in front with his Prince – so it reassured Bi'an that he could stab Fan Xian in a kidney if he tried anything.

Though it wasn't much of a walk to the Palace itself, it _was_ a pretty long one to the buildings that housed the Emperor's consorts and concubines, because they were situated the furthest away from the main entrance. As per righteous for the sake of security, Bi'an thought, though this time he had to withstand Fan Xian's inane chattering. It helped somewhat, however, that his Prince looked rather entertained by the constant stream of, well, _rubbish_ coming out of the man's mouth.

If Bi'an hadn't seen Fan Xian's efficiency and capabilities for himself in Beiqi, he would have thought the man to be touched in the head. If he hadn't been a direct beneficiary of Fan Xian's peculiar brand of kindness when Fan Xian had lied his face off in his reports to the Chairman and the Emperor about the extent of Bi'an's contributions to the escort mission, he would genuinely dislike him for how much noise he made.

At the moment, he was an annoyance. Potentially dangerous if only because of the homicidal tendencies he ignited in those around him.

"Here," Bi'an said, waving towards the pathway that led towards his Shifu's residence and away from his Prince's mother's. "This way."

"Yeah, I kind of remember this..." Fan Xian muttered, but obediently followed.

Fan Xian had visited Shifu once, he remembered hearing. Just like he had visited the Prince's mother once.

Bi'an wasn't entirely sure that the Prince's mother knew _he_ existed, but he was most definitely was going to proceed as if she did.

His Prince looked like he would be vastly entertained even if Fan Xian wandered off into the wrong direction anyway, so Bi'an didn't attempt to be more of a guide than necessary. His Excellency the Shanzhu still managed to get to Shifu's residence on the first try.

Shifu was waiting for them, table already set out for four.

Bi'an would never forget that Shifu had come from the Jianghu, because those were the skills that she had passed to him – though he had chosen to focus on speed instead of dexterity like she had. But her honest and open manner made it easy to forget that she, too, was one of the Imperial family, and despite having offended the Empress Dowager once and been demoted in rank, she had managed to survive all this time with her low rank, a son who could never inherit, _and_ the Emperor's favour.

Her bluntness did not mean she was not astute. Her candor did not mean she was stupid. Bi'an had learned that from her, too, and turned it into a technique of his own: the less he spoke and the blanker he appeared, the more stupid people would think him, and then he would be underestimated. What he could do with that underestimation...

Not much. But it was a weapon in his Prince's hand, nonetheless.

"Sit," she said. "Chengze," she waved to the sit opposite her, "Bi'an," to her right, "and Fan Xian." When they had obediently settled themselves down – Fan Xian looked a little shocked for some reason – she picked up the teapot and handed it off to a servant.

"Has anyone told any of you how I met His Majesty?"

Fan Xian opened his mouth – Bi'an was too far to do more than glare at Fan Xian, but his stupid shanzhu mouth didn't stop anyway.

"Something about you nursing him back to health? And him marrying you in reward?" Fan Xian said.

It wasn't the worst version Bi'an had heard, so at least Fan Xian could live. Especially since his Shifu threw her head back and laughed, showing that there was _one_ person who thought Fan Xian funny.

"I'm from Dongyi," she said, "and Dongyi is the smallest of the three countries, and constantly caught up in the conflicts between Beiqi and Nanqing." She gave them a thin smile that, Bi'an reckoned, was supposed to be an explanation for the way she had referred to their country. "Nearly thirty years ago, there was a battle in the tri-border to the East. I was there as one of Beiqi's prisoners-of-war, long story," she waved it off, "and His Majesty was a Prince given command of the battlefield."

She took the teapot that the servant returned with, and poured for all of their cups. "The second-in-command for that battle is dead, an Alpha woman whose name, I've heard, is written outside the Investigative Bureau." Fan Xian inhaled sharply, eyes widening. "But His Majesty's true weapon was the omega who smelled of wildflowers." She laid an elbow on the table, smile widening.

"A pretty little thing who commanded an entire army of terrifying soldiers who wore black cloaks and silver masks, and personally cut off the heads of multiple Beiqi generals to repay the stab wound his Alpha had received." She set the cup down. "I've known Chen Pingping for a _very_ long time."

"A—" Fan Xian said, like he couldn't imagine it.

Bi'an could. His Prince was beautiful as porcelain, and as delicate; but his mind was his best and strongest tool, and Bi'an was his sword and shield both.

But that was because he had been honed by the fight for survival – if he hadn't had to, his Prince would have been perfectly content to be the soft delicate flower in Bi'an's arms, happy to curl up, indulged and beloved for the rest of his life. The fact that circumstances had taught him to be otherwise still hurt Bi'an sometimes when he thought about it.

Omegas were delicate, treasured, precious. But there was only one thing that could universally cause an omega to be that _bloodthirsty_.

And that was in order to protect the ones who represented their safety.

(He remembered how his Prince had come back from the Palace, smelling of frustrated simmering _rage_ and hate, after that Imperial summons before he'd told Bi'an he was sending him to Beiqi to burn away suspicion of murdering Lin Gong. His Prince was scared of what the Crown Prince _represented_ , and half his fight was to keep Xie Bi'an by his side. But a direct attack on his Alpha was not to be borne —any softer emotion that his Prince might once have held for his younger brother was now completely turned to hate, because he had threatened the Prince's _Alpha_.)

"He'd already had the Black Knights then?" The Prince said.

"Oh yes," his Shifu nodded, looking at the Prince with something like approval. Given what Bi'an knew of her, that was likely because he had kept his head and asked an important question despite her deliberate attempts to throw him off. "I'm not sure when he gained them, but he already had them. They were," she poured more tea for herself, giving that thin-lipped smile again, "his personal guards."

Something must have shown on Bi'an's face, because she picked up the glass and gestured to him with it. "Exactly," she said. "How could a _Prince_ have enough power to grant his omega an entire _army_ as personal guards? Not to mention that they wore a different uniform..." She chuckled. "Oh, and there were those red-armoured troops, too," she turned to Fan Xian, grinning out of the corner of her mouth, "that are now for your father to do as he sees fit."

"You know my Dad?" Fan Xian blurted out.

"There were four of them, and always had been four of them," Shifu said, serene, "until one died, and they became three."

"Why didn't you— when we met the last time—" Fan Xian sputtered.

"Last time was about Wan'er," Shifu reminded, lifting an eyebrow. "Why would I mention anything like this?"

"But now," the Prince murmured, lifting his cup and looking at Shifu over the rim, "it is _not_ about Wan'er."

"It is not," Shifu said agreeably. "His Majesty told me himself that, when he brings little Chen Pingping," Fan Xian made a choking noise, and, for the first time, Bi'an empathised with him, "into the Palace, he would be given the rank of Huang-gufei. An entirely new rank that is higher than even," she nodded at the Prince, "my little bookworm of a sister."

"Well it means the Chair- Fan Xian's siblings will be able to enter as they will," the Prince said, though Bi'an could read the surprise and shock that stiffened his spine.

"That's kinda irrelevant isn't it," Fan Xian said, looking to his Prince. "I mean how did Niang have an entire army of his own already, and – and _four_...!"

"Three grapes," his Prince said, and Bi'an glanced down at his bowl of rice to hide the smile while Fan Xian sputtered.

It was an... interesting? sobering thought though. A Prince like the emperor had been – everyone knew what he had been once. His Prince had told him one night, while curled in his arms, just what his lineage was – the present emperor had once been a nephew of the prior emperor. Where would he have had the power and strength to second such a powerful army to his omega mate even before he became an emperor?

"Niang?" Shifu jumped on the title immediately, raising her other eyebrow. "So you _are_ little Chen Pingping's son with His Majesty,."

"He also says that Ye Qingmei was involved," the Prince chimed in, unable to resist. "And also Fan Jian, too, somehow."

"Hah," Shifu said, looking thoughtful even as Fan Xian's face went through a series of complicated motions. "Well, I had always suspected _that_ of the four of them. It is His Majesty, after all; he's known for that kind of thing."

Fortunately, before Bi'an's mind could drive itself down _that_ particular route regarding his future father-in-law (???? !!!!), Shifu's eyes lit up. "Ah, right, I suppose none of you know this story? Chengze, you might have actually heard of it."

The Prince blinked. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ning-cairen," he said politely.

"The story of what happened on that night when the Elder Princess was chased away," Shifu said, and grinned.

Bi'an's Prince blinked and looked like he braced. "I most definitely did not hear," he said, carefully, curling his fingers around his cup. Fan Xian looked like he was having paroxysms of some sort. Maybe he was having a stroke.

Learning that you had four parents who – were extremely _unorthodox_ together might do that.

Bi'an wouldn't know; Bi'an had none.

"What happened the night that the Elder Princess was kicked out?" Fan Xian said, his expression settling on vicious. Bi'an wasn't sure he approved. Fan Xian had suddenly come all over protective over his Prince, and claimed it was only the natural Alpha protectiveness over their omega sibling; but hadn't the Princess also been an omega relative?

He had been so intent on driving her out, to the utmost of his vicious vengeful ability, it was why his Prince had had planned three 'gifts' to hem in Fan Xian's vengeance against him.

"You were there," Bi'an said, after a moment.

"Much later," Fan Xian. "I was told that I should plead for that bas- the Emperor's mercy on her behalf, and I spent a long time thinking about it."

"You didn't, did you?" his Shifu asked, turning piercing dark eyes to him.

"No," Fan Xian said. There were daggers in his wide smile as he said, "I pleaded for him to be as vicious in his punishment to her as possible."

"Which is likely why he still likes you," his Shifu snorted, and then sipped her tea.

"Forgive me, Ning-cairen," Bi'an's Prince said, leaning forward with a small frown creasing his brow. "I understand that the Princess had misstepped greatly when she had tried to kill Fan Xian—"

"That's not it," Bi'an's Shifu shook her head.

"What?" the Prince blinked.

"The Emperor doesn't care about things like that," Fan Xian snorted, leaning back with his palms flat on the floor. "He thinks assassination attempts on me are just ways for me to train up my skills, or something like that."

"You _do_ know him pretty well," Shifu said, sounding slightly surprised and, Bi'an's eyebrow twitched a little, appreciative at Fan Xian's judgment of the Emperor. "So, what do you think was the reason why His Majesty was so angry at the Princess? Why had he thrown her out of the capital, and why would he have looked down on you if you had come to beg him for mercy on her?"

Fan Xian opened his mouth. Clicked it back shut, and then tossed back a cup of tea. He exhaled noisily, and shook his head. "I don't know. Niang said that it was because she revealed that she had her hands in the Investigative Bureau, but I don't see why that would..." He shrugged.

"Bi'an?" His Shifu shifted her glance towards him.

He stared at her. Wasn't this a test for Fan Xian? Or perhaps some kind of gentle teasing at Bi'an's Prince? Surely Shifu could not have meant that as a genuine question?

But she was looking at him expectantly, so he could do nothing but reply: "She touched what he gave his omega," he said. When she smiled at him, clearly encouraging, he continued, "I am making a guess here, but I think the Bureau was a courting gift from His Majesty to the Chairman."

Which would make sense that Fan Xian was the _only_ person who could inherit it: he was their son.

Fan Xian's mouth opened, then shut.

How could he not know this? He was an Alpha of the overprotective sort; he should have...

Well then again he also thought that his Prince was an Alpha for a damn long time; maybe he was just defective.

Bi'an could not offer such a huge gift as the emperor – even then a mere nephew of the emperor, could. It was almost humbling, because all that he had done, all that his Prince had orchestrated for him to accomplish, was only to raise his rank so he might be _worthy_ of asking for his Prince's hand. He had not yet even begun to achieve anything in his Prince's name, or gift him so high a price.

"Niang did say that all of that effort was just for her to say that one sentence," Fan Xian mulled. "And that would have been it for her – gone case."

Shifu didn't bat an eye at the random nonsense Fan Xian had tacked on.

"Precisely," she said, looking approvingly at Bi'an.

"But if that is the case – surely she should have known, anyway—" Fan Xian said.

"What is that night's relevance to do with his gift?" Bi'an's Prince interrupted.

"His Majesty called little Chen Pingping in," Shifu said, grinning with all of her teeth showing. "Wheeled him right past the Elder Princess, who was kneeling right outside in the hallway. According to the guards who were on shift," ah, no wonder Shifu knew this to such detail; she talked to the guards, and was likely the only person belonging to the Imperial family who would do such a thing, "the entire hallway was saturated with the smell of sex."

Pouring herself more tea, she ignored Fan Xian's choking noises and said, "His Majesty is a vicious, ruthless man, and his little Chen Pingping is no better."

"So it _was_ a courting gift," Bi'an's Prince said and Bi'an was ... vindicated in his conclusion. It was an _Alpha's_ gift to his omega, and of course it couldn't be touched, at all. Never, by anyone the omega hadn't given it to, and an Alpha was always always possessive.

He had never given anything to his Prince, not yet, but every piece of food, every thing he had ever handed to his Prince, his Prince had never treated carelessly.

The Princess – the Princess was an omega, true, and she had no Alpha to make to her courting gifts.

(Or, Bi'an thought viciously, there were plenty. There was at least one mongrel, stupid disgusting dog, who hounded her for scraps of anything, and it was impressive how much Yan Xiaoyi clearly only deserved the scraps of her disdain, since she had ignored his interest ages ago.)

She should have known.

"It was a play," Bi'an's Prince said, and his mouth was crooked with complex emotions. He was technically talking to Shifu, but his gaze was to Bi'an. "Not just that she wanted to get rid of an unwanted suitor for Wan'er, but my esteemed Aunt..."

His Prince looked briefly, momentarily, _pitying_. "Had only ever wanted one Alpha."

Fan Xian looked a mixture of confused and disgusted. Bi'an stopped looking at him, because his Prince was speaking again:

"And the Alpha was telling her too, how little interest he had in her." His lips twisted. "And how much he didn't _want_ her interest."

It was almost unthinkable to Bi'an: the idea that an Alpha would reject an omega's interest. There were so few omegas in comparison to Alphas that any Alpha who had gained an omega's interest would think himself, or herself, to be incredibly lucky. To have an omega practically throw herself at his feet and yet turn away... Was this what was often called the Imperial Privilege? Was this the right of the Emperor, in which he not only had the choice but the hardness of the heart to _refuse an omega_?

"Wait," Fan Xian said, sitting up very straight. "Wait, wait, _wait_ — you mean the Elder Princess liked— uh, _wanted_ the Emperor? Her _brother_?"

"Her adopted brother," Shifu corrected him. "They have no blood relation whatsoever."

"But that's her _brother_ ," Fan Xian said weakly, seemingly fixated on the word.

Bi'an's Prince sighed explosively, and shook his head. "Don't you get it, Fan Xian?" he asked. "Our Imperial Father adopted her as a sister _because_ he had no interest in her and wanted to deter her interest in him. The sibling relationship came _after_ her desire!"

"but—" Fan Xian started.

"She was trying to co-opt the gift made to Father's omega," the Prince said, and of course. Of course his Prince would know, would understand; he was an omega too. "and in doing so, trying to co-opt the Chairman's place. Her sin was two fold – touching an Alpha's courting gift, and trying to usurp _his_ omega."

Fan Xian dropped his head into his hands. "This fucking family," he groaned, the words slightly muffled. "I swear to my old woman, I can't even deal with everything that's going on here."

"When I first met His Majesty," his Shifu said, looking at Fan Xian like she was highly entertained by his behaviour, "I had thought: this was a man who would drive all those around him slightly mad. It was not helped by the fact that he had Ye Qingmei with him, and she was even madder." She shook her head. "It takes a particular insanity to be able to create things like that which the Neiku sells."

"Oh," Bi'an Prince's said, eyes going very wide. " _Oh_ , I see it now."

"What," Shifu said slowly, slanting her eyes to him, "do you see?"

"The pieces fit together," the Prince said, grabbing the cups on the table. "Ye Qingmei's Neiku provided the funds," he took Bi'an's still-full cup, drained it, and slammed it down in the middle of the table, "Father provided the authority," he snatched Fan Xian's cup practically from his hand, causing the Alpha to yelp, "and then both of them built the Investigative Bureau," he placed them together, "and gave it to the Chairman." He shoved the paired cups to Shifu.

"You have," Shifu said, smiling widely now, "always been very smart."

"Then," Fan Xian lurched forward, "my old woman— Ye Qingmei— died, and then the Neiku," he plucked Bi'an's cup from the Prince’s hand and waved it in the air, "went to the Princess," before tossing it in the Prince's direction. "Given my old woman's relationship with the Emperor—"

"That half of the Emperor's courting gift to his omega belongs to her," Bi'an clarified, because something that ludicrous needed to be said aloud.

"Yes, that," Fan Xian nodded rapidly. "Even though the Neiku was supposedly held by the Princess in trust for Wan'er, it represented to the Princess a show of affection from the Emperor to her." His head smacked the edge of the table. "That is so _fucked up_."

"Go on," Shifu said encouraging. "You haven't reached the part where the Emperor decided that having sex with his omega right where the Princess could smell and hear it yet."

"I don't _want_ to think about him – oh my god, Niang's chair was right there when I – Niang was _still_ in the room when I went!" Fan Xian exclaimed.

Bi'an's Prince looked at him like he'd gone just round the bend a little, and took away Fan Xian's cup. He touched a finger lightly to his lip, and then glanced at Bi'an, then back down to the table.

"Driving the point home," Bi'an said, because his Prince's ears were... going just a bit pink. "He was marking his claim on -"

He looked at his shifu. Did he have to continue? That sounded like something private!

(Fan Xian was barely able to keep himself from having a seizure from the paroxysms of horror caused by his belated realisation. He had seen his Niang's wheelchair in the study, of course, tucked right against his bastard f— the Emperor's desk. But Fan Xian had been too distracted by his boiling rage at the Princess, his mind swirling in tight circles around the dilemma of the Princess being Wan'er's mother and his Dad's desire for him to beg mercy for her while all he wanted to do was to see her _burn_ , omega or not.

So, he hadn't noticed. Neither had he realised at the time that the sweet smell of daffodils underneath the sharp, heavy musk had been his Niang. He had paid no mind _whatsoever_ to the hint of something _else_ in the air, a presence that could neither be covered up or erased by the smoke from the brazier or the rain-touched wind coming from the window.

Oh, _fuck_ , he had walked into the room right after his bastard father had fucked his Niang, after he had done so to prove a _point_ to the Princess. And— where was his Niang then? His chair had been right there, out in the open, but Fan Xian hadn't seen hide or hair of him, he would remember if he had—

The Emperor had been in his under-clothes, the usual white, bedsheets-like robes missing. Oh, _fucking hell_ , Fan Xian really, really did not need that mental image in his head!)

"Marking a claim," Shifu echoed, smiling slightly. "That's certainly one way to put it." She chuckled, soft and low, and returned the teacups to their proper positions. "Like I said, they are both vicious, ruthless men."

"Imagine the shame," Bi'an's Prince said, to the table top. His ears were completely red now. "Of having that driven home to you."

Rejected, Bi'an thought, and not just rejected, having it rubbed thoroughly in her face, how much neither of them thought she was – anything.That the Chairman hadn't thought her any sort of competition until she'd made Fan Xian a target. Fan Xian, the Chairman's _son_ , and an omega was only more protective of their children than their Alpha.

That her chosen Alpha was rejecting her in such a cruel, ruthless manner. If anyone had even thought to do such a thing, for such a reason, in front of his Prince's face...

Bi'an couldn't imagine it.

He watched his Prince swallow, very hard.

"Thank you for the warning, Ning-cairen," the Prince said, looking up at Shifu, bringing up his hands in the proper salute.

Warning? What warning? That the Emperor and the chairman were terrifying people? That they would do something so cold, ruthless, to another omega, no matter how awful she had been?

His Prince didn't look at him; but he would explain later when they were in private.

"Niang isnt _vicious_ ," Fan Xian piped up like an idiot. "he's very sweet and kind!"

"Did I say that he was not?" Ning-cairen said, amused. "Little Chen Pingping has always been both." She tapped her fingertip over the rim of her teacup as she looked at each one of them in turn.

"When he comes into the Palace," she said, "he will be huang-guifei." Letting out a sigh, she let out a sigh. "I can guess exactly why they're doing this, and what they're planning, and I wanted to see you three because I want you to _not interfere_."

"Why—" Fan Xian started.

"They will try to draw you in," she cut him off ruthlessly, eyes fixed now on Bi'an's Prince. "A test, a training exercise, whatever reason they can think of that sounds better than 'entertainment,' but that's all it would be to them. Especially to," she tilted her chin up, " _him_." She swept her cup up in her hand and drained it like it was alcohol.

"Stay out of it."

The Prince was looking at Shifu, not to Bi'an, or to FanXian.

"It concerns my life, Ning-cairen," he said. "It concerns Bi'an. I cannot help but be drawn into it."

He bit his lip, and then took a deep breath, "If it succeeds, this plan will give me what I had been fighting for since I left the Palace. How would I not be involved?"

Would, Bi'an thought distantly horrified, that mean that they might even try to use the second Prince as bait? Knowing what he knew of the Crown Prince, that could be a risk, even, to make this terrifying plan, this horrifying trap even more attractive to the East Palace.

His Prince was a threat that even the Empress had to be able to see, by the indulgence that his Father allowed him, by the fact that the Prince had his own faction. She might not know of his secretly raising an army with stolen funds, but if she did find out, and she pressed the matter, the fact that Chengze had stolen funds from the _neiku_ could be an issue she could force the Emperor to notice officially.

"That," Shifu pointed at the Prince with her cup, "is exactly why I asked to talk to you, and exactly why I need you to sit down and not do anything. "She gave him a thin smile. "Sit on your hands, and sit on him," she nodded at Bi'an, "if you must."

"But—" the Prince started.

"I know them well," Shifu cut him off again, leaning forward with her elbow on the table. "If little Chen Pingping decided that getting himself _pregnant_ was a reasonable action, if he thought that having to be chained in this Palace when he had always been free to roam and act..." Her hand slammed down on the wood, making the cups clatter. Bi'an barely managed to stop his from falling over and spilling tea everywhere.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

His Prince had gone pale; he had a healthy wariness for the Chairman, while Bi'an had the fear built in from living on the streets.

But he was seeing -

"This is bigger than us," his Prince said, quietly. "Bigger than all three of us. In the grand scheme of things – they're planning things for a _country_."

Or a continent.

How had a discussion of what the Emperor had done on the night the Elder Princess had been driven out, her suit and attempt to prove her worth as a mate (which was still hard to comprehend, still impossible, because how can an omega have to _prove_ oneself?!) had resulted into something so huge, so earth shaking?

It was the Chairman, and the Emperor, Bi'an realised. Both of these people, from lowly backgrounds, had become the boogeymen of other countries, even when the weapon the emperor wielded wouldn't be able to climb the stairs of Beiqi's Palace.

But then, Chen Pingping didn't need to climb any stairs. There would be people enough who would do it, enemies and friends both, because in his hands and with his mind, both of these would be tools for him.

Fan Xian's ramblings had dropped hints, and his Prince's explanations had clarified: Chen Pingping was terrifying because he thought on a scale that even his Prince could not — Fan Xian's mission had been planned for, somehow, for the entirety of Fan Xian's life. Bi'an didn't know the details, and he was very sure he didn't want to know.

He had witnessed himself, first hand, the small scale of lessons the Emperor had been teaching his own _son_ ever since Bi'an had first met him.

For this plan, this trap that they were making, it must be so earth shattering, that it would destroy all in their wake, friend and foe alike, that shifu felt it necessary to warn them off.

"And they know," Shifu nodded, "that I have talked to you about it. They have taken that into their calculations." She let out a low laugh – how could she _laugh_ at a time like this? About something as weighty as this? – before she shook his head. "I have always known that they are terrible for each other, but it really has grown even worse with every year."

"Uh... Ning-cairen," Fan Xian said. There was a light in his eyes that had Bi'an narrowing his own instinctively. "May I ask a rude question?"

"You've asked plenty of those," Shifu said placidly. "Why not one more?"

"I have? Uh, wait, that's not—" Fan Xian took a deep breath. "I... uh. You met all four of them, right? The Emperor, my Niang, my old woman, and my Dad... and you said that you looked at them and knew that it was the _four of them_."

"Mm," Shifu nodded. "I can guess your question," she said. "But I want to hear you ask it."

"Why did you marry him, then?" Fan Xian blurted out.

"Because he makes life interesting," Shifu answered immediately, and grinned at the fish-eyed stare that Fan Xian gave her. "It might not look like it given that I'm living here, supposedly sheltered and cloistered from all cares of life," the wave of her hand and the roll of her eyes made it clear that she was quoting someone, "but there is plenty for me to know and see and be entertained by." She grinned at Fan Xian over her cup.

"Without getting involved if I don't want to be... all for the low price of a marriage and a child that I would be allowed to bring up however I like," Shifu continued. "Why _wouldn't_ I marry him?"

Shifu, Bi'an thought, answered like every Jianghu person he'd met. It made Fan Xian squint and scowl a little, but it fit her.

All of Jianghu was just a little... side-ways from the normal lives that Fan Xian and his Prince led — rank didn't matter as much as honour, birth didn't matter as much as behaviour and one's word.

Granted, Fan Xian had already thrown his reputation and word down the deep ravines of Beiqi, so he wouldn't understand it very well.

"One day," Fan Xian said, "I really want to meet the Eldest Prince. If he's anything like you, he'd be really interesting."

"He's a typical Alpha to the point of boorishness," Shifu waved a hand, dismissing her son easily. "The kind of military-minded idiot who thinks that strategy books and toy soldiers would make for good presents for a cute little omega girl."

Bi'an's Prince made a sound that was very much like a snort. Then he lifted a hand to pretend to cover his mouth as he leaned towards Bi'an. "Xiongzhang gave those to Wan'er," he said in a faux-whisper, "and he was puzzled for days that she didn't like any of it, and even more confused when he visited next and realised that she had taken to dressing his soldiers up in different outfits that the maids had made for her."

Fan Xian had a look on his face that made Bi'an instinctively twitch, because he could recognise how it felt when it was on _his_ : an Alpha looking upon, or thinking about, his beloved omega, and barely resisting the urge to stow them somewhere safe so as to keep their innocence and shelter them from the harsh cruelties of the world.

(He would never, he decided, understand the Emperor. It had been Bi'an's inability to keep his Prince safe from the Crown Prince his brother's attention that led to the Prince being mired in court intrigues and politics. But the Emperor, even before he was an Emperor, could have done so. And given that he was apparently sharing an omega with Ye Qingmei, who practically had the world's riches in her hands, so could she.

But they didn't. They _refused_ , and Bi'an would _never_ understand.)

"By the time he comes back for his periodic visits," Shifu said, drawing their attention back to her, "you won't have to call him that anymore, Chengze."

"Mm?" the Prince blinked. "What do you mean?"

She smiled. "Hadn't he always been your 'Da Ge'?"

Fan Xian was now looking at the Prince.

Bi'an's Prince was sitting so still, hands frozen on the table.

Bi'an knew exactly when his Prince had stopped calling his older brother Da Ge, and the fact that...

"So soon?" he said, on his Prince's behalf. "Would it really be accomplished, so quickly?"

"Of course," Shifu said, plucking off the lid of the teapot to peer at the insides. "It's not only little Chen Pingping who is making use of a parent's protective instinct over their child."

"Twins," Fan Xian said abruptly. "Niang is going to have twins."

"My son should be called back from the border soon," his Shifu said. "Or else he's going to miss your wedding, Chengze."

The Prince made a tiny noise, right in the back of his throat.

Like he wasn't sure where to start.

 _Bi'an_ didn't know where to start: the prospective empress was pregnant with twins. In his frail wheelchair bound body, with his age, wasn't that even feasible? Plausible? _healthy?_

But what was slamming into his mind was – soon. soon, this would be over and his Prince could – he and his Prince – they could be _married_ , because it would finally be safe enough to, and his Prince would not only be able to marry, free of worry about his Crown Prince brother, he would no longer have to fight for the throne – he could put aside the struggles he had had, for so many years, the stresses that had carved lines on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes, and could finally put aside the beta role he had had to take on.

There were bigger things afoot. Bi'an knew that.

But then he'd always, only ever, been concerned with his Prince and his safety and happiness. Nothing else mattered.

"Come on, Fan Xian," his Shifu said. She might be speaking to the other Alpha, but her eyes were fixed upon Bi'an, and there was the barest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "Let's throw some swords at each other for a while, shall we?"

"Wait, I don't want to—" Fan Xian started, and then abruptly cut himself off. "Oh, okay, sure! Let's, uh, yeah let's spar, am I allowed to use weapons here in the Palace though? I thought I'd get a spiffy uniform first before I'm allowed to have a sword in my hand instead of a knife instead my boot—"

Bi'an tuned out the chattering, noticing only the fading of their footsteps. Once he was sure that both Shifu and Fan Xian had turned the corner and could no longer see him and his Prince, he reached out.

His Prince twitched, just a moment, barely before Bi'an's hand could land on his arm; his Prince scrambled up, kicking the cushion in his haste to fall into Bi'an's arms, wrapping himself against Bi'an's chest, into his lap.

"Soon," he said, "soon, soon it'll be over soon and then we can – you could be the country's fu-ma."

His voice was low, but not too low for Bi'an to hear the shake of emotion, nor was he too close for Bi'an to see how his eyelashes were clumped with the shine of tears.

He reached up, cupping his Prince's cheek, thumb gently brushing against his Prince's eyelashes.

"Soon," he said. "We just have to wait."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drelfina: 驸马 (fu-ma) : means Imperial son-in-law, specifically and only used for the son-in-law of the _Emperor_. That is, a man who has married the imperial daughter of the Emperor. In Omegaverse, this means that Li Chengze, the only omega child, would be considered a princess, and anyone who marries him would be Bastard Emperor's son-in-law, ie, his Fu-ma.
> 
> According to what evocates has told me, the literal translation of this term means "groom", ie a dude who took care of the horse and tack of the emperor. This was extremely important during war-time, and an incredible position of trust. Eventually this came to mean "as close as the groom", because a daughter of the emperor was as valuable as the horse of an emperor, and the dude you entrust your daughter to has to be trustworthy. (this is what hierarchy is all about in chinese society – there is always someone who is _the_ highest ranking guy in any one relationship, and the emperor stands on top.)
> 
> The term fu-ma now comes to mean _only_ son-in-law of the emperor.
> 
> have some cute sp/xba, i just love these two adorable babies.
> 
> have we made you love sp/xba yet, raptor? _Love them as hard as Drelfina does_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot moves forward, we finally have some Emperor POV, these old fucks are _old dangerous fuckers_ , and the Empress makes her move.

It had been years since the Emperor had taken a new consort, so of course it would be a rather grand occasion. Made even grander by the fact that the Emperor had even created a new rank – something that had never been done ever since the Founder of the Qing empire had crafted the consort ranks based upon the teachings and wisdoms of the gods who had showed him favour – simply to grant it to this one. Add to that the fact that the new consort was already pregnant, and with twins...

Well, Li Yunxu thought, smirking to himself as he rested his arms upon the top of the Palace's parapets to watch the palanquin's approach. The fact that it was the newly-retired Chairman of the Investigative Bureau, someone long known and acknowledged to be the Emperor's Omega....

Chen Pingping was lucky that Yunxu could be persuaded to not make it a national holiday.

The palanquin was flanked by the Black Knights, each one of them still in their black cloaks and silver masks, entirely incongruous to the red cloth that covered the centrepiece of the entire procession. At least the person behind, the newly-minted Chairman of the Investigative Bureau, had decided to wear maroon to bridge the distance between the gaudy vermillion and the forbidding black. Though the heavy, steel-grey wheelchair he was pushing in front of him – empty right now – rather blunted the effect.

"Your Majesty," Eunuch Hong said behind him.

"Is my mother going to lodge another complaint?" Yunxu asked without turning around.

"Her Majesty the Empress Dowager has no such words," the Eunuch who served as his mother's bodyguard and as the Emperor's own scapegoat with regards to the identity of the Fourth Grandmaster said. "She wishes only to extend her congratulations, and hopes that she will be meeting your new consort soon."

Yunxu's lips twitched up very slightly at the corners. "Alright," he said, and then borrowed a phrase that his little leaf had once liked to say, "Noted with thanks."

Eunuch Hong stiffened before he saluted. Yunxu waved him away, and knew his mother would understand the implied message: no matter how much she disapproved, she would never have any control over who he took to his bed. She might believe that she, along with his dearest beloved Empress, had murdered his little leaf, but, well.

He knew better.

The whole procession was unmistakable. It couldn't be missed. The entire city knew of it, and only those who had been living under a rock on the other side of Beiqi would not have known just whom Qing's Emperor was finally taking into the Palace as his new consort.

Beiqi must be breathing a sigh of relief. Or panicking. Both options amused him.

It was but the work of a moment to be right where the palanquin stopped. The new Head of the Investigative Bureau gave him a somewhat dark look from behind his fringe as a sort of welcome.

Yunxu smiled, and then swept the palaquin's curtain up before Fan Xian could say anything.

Chen Pingping waited for him, dressed in a qun kua of dark red with dark gold thread embroidering along his shoulders all the way down to his voluminous sleeves. The swell of his belly – far larger than most at six months, confirming that he was carrying twins – was emphasised instead of hidden by the rich brocade. No dye had been used on his hair, but it was no longer in that boring beta-like style that he had always preferred, instead pinned up in a series of intricate braids twined with ribbons the same shade of red and gold as the rest of his outfit.

The fact that he could see his omega's hair meant, of course, that the red veil was off. Yunxu smirked. "You're not supposed to do that," he pointed out.

"Given that Your Majesty has got me with child," his Xiaochangzai drawled at him, "I reckon that you have seen my face."

"I have, and I know it well," he said. "Get the veil back on."

Chen Pingping's lips twitched up slightly at the side, and he draped the red silk back on top of his head. Then, with a long exhale, he relaxed his body. Even before Yunxu had telegraphed any of his intentions using his own.

He finally had the chance to bring his omega into the Palace. That, he thought, was as good a reason as any to smile as he did now: wide and full of teeth even as he dipped further inside the palanquin. One arm under the knees, the other under the arms, and he lifted Chen Pingping up before he stepped back.

Fan Xian made a noise—

Probably a protest.

Yunxu didn't have to pay any attention to it, because his newest consort had automatically lifted his arms when he'd felt the touch of an arm to his back, and Chen Pingping wrapped his arm securely around Yunxu's shoulders.

"Was the palanquin too subtle for Your Majesty's taste?" his omega inquired mildly, like he was asking about whether the weather was fine today.

(The weather was, if anyone must know, very fine. It could be raining and it would be finest possible, because it was the day he could bring _his_ Chen Pingping into the Palace for all of the world to see, and know that this time he was doing so huge with _his_ children.)

"I could," Yunxu said, "kiss you right here as well, but I do have to think of your delicate constitution."

Chen Pingping let out a soft huff through his nose, but kept very still as Yunxu knelt before his chair and transferred him carefully into it. Someone, he noted as he stared at the contraption, had tied a few ribbons into it.

"I suppose you should think about that now," his omega said, speaking as if there had been no interruption to their conversation at all. "Though it is a surprise, given how little you cared about it before."

"The search for the best doctors have reached to the very edges of our provinces," he pointed out mildly, and then not-so-subtly elbowed their son out of the way so he could take over the handles of the wheelchair. "Results will have to take another month or so, I'm afraid."

"Well," Chen Pingping huffed, sounding amused. "I suppose I _could_ wait for another month."

If Yunxu spared at glance for his son – his Lao San, he thought, wry and amused – Fan Xian had a contorted grimace on his face. 

Why, it's almost as if he couldn't take how much _affection_ his parents had for each other. 

What a terrible, heartless boy. 

"I promise," Yunxu said, "to be very gentle with you," reaching fingers up to the hem of Pingping's veil. His Xiaochangzai. 

"You had better," Fan Xian grumbled under his breath. "Niang's _delicate_." 

Despite Ning Xia's warning, Yunxu thought, his terrible, perceptive boy looked like he was going to insist on visiting his Niang as often as he could, dragging Lao Er into the Palace more often than he normally did. He was going to be seeing more of his sons for the next several weeks than he had over the past few years. 

It was a nice thought. 

"At least for a month," Yunxu said to his Xiaochangzai, turning his hand so his fingers could just smooth the edge of the veil back down. 

It was thick enough that he couldn't see more than the little bump that indicated his consort's nose, the silk barely clinging to the curve of Pingping's cheekbones. 

The tease of this being _his_ alone for another few hours, was… well. He'd never gotten Pingping in a veil, because he had not the restraint for it. 

Twenty years – more than twenty years – and he finally had the ability to wait a few more hours. Pingping should be proud of him. 

"Xian'er," Pingping said, turning his head slightly to the side. To Yunxu's vast amusement, his perpetually-disobedient boy – it had to be his little leaf's blood running in him – practically snapped to attention, immediately leaning in. "Don't worry too much about me," his Niang continued, finding Fan Xian's hand unerringly and patting it lightly. "I'll be fine."

His son's eyes slanted towards him, glaring under his fringe for long moments before he huffed. "I got it, I got it," he said, and then straightened. "So, about these..." he waved a hand towards the Black Knights patiently waiting for further instructions.

"They were given to Chen Pingping," Yunxu reminded mildly. "Not the Investigative Bureau."

Fan Xian heaved a sigh. "They’re the _entirety_ of the Fifth Division of said Bureau, but sure, they belong only to Niang,” he sighed heavily. “But yeah, yeah, I got it. I'll bring them back with me, and then come back tomorrow to settle the arrangements in the Palace." His lips thinned into a line for a moment before he shook his head and raised a hand.

When the boy _finally_ backed off – did he think that Yunxu would start devouring his Xiaochangzai right here, in front of all and sundry? Though that did sound like a good idea – Yunxu settled his hands back into the chair and started pushing it towards the direction of his own quarters in the Palace.

"Does this consort," Pingping's voice floated up to him, "not have quarters given to him by His Majesty?"

"Of course you do," Yunxu said. "A Palace of your own, as befitting your status as _huang-guifei_." Imperial Noble Consort, barely below the Empress's rank, and freshly-created for Pingping. Yunxu didn't bother to stifle his smirk. "You'll find its location familiar."

"I suppose," Pingping hummed, "that it's empty."

Of course his omega would figure out with just a few words that Yunxu had given him the Guangxin Palace that had once belonged to Li Yunrui. His grin widened. "Precisely," he said. "And it will remain empty until tomorrow. Or perhaps next week."

"Next week?" His omega's voice was a lilt of surprise – but he knew he wouldn't even actually _look_ it. The exaggerated surprise in his tone was just because Yunxu couldn't see his face, and it was a _tease_. "I suppose the affairs of state can wait so long, Your Majesty? Xian'er will be back tomorrow."

"He would be, wouldn't he?" Yunxu said, lilting his voice up as well. "He's persistent. And terribly protective over you." His hand slipped down to brush over the dark gold threads on Pingping's shoulder. "Have you been telling him stories about me?"

"With all that Your Majesty had me do these past months," his Pingping said, pointedly smoothing a hand over the heavy swell of their children, "do you think I had the time?"

"I think," Yunxu said, "that there is very little you can't do if you put your mind to it."

"Including betray you?" Pingping asked, tone flat and serious in a way that nearly had Yunxu laughing aloud. He barely managed to swallow the sound, letting out a few rough chuckles instead.

"An inefficient method of doing so," he said. "Or are you hoping that my heart would be torn into further shreds by your betrayal if you did so with my children in your belly?" He clicked his tongue. "Or with the title of huang-guifei hanging beside your name, tying your ankles to this Palace with silken ropes?"

"Some might say," his consort said, veil shifting in a shimmer of silk as he tipped his head, slightly. Yunxu could look down, and see the bulk of the headdress completely hidden and turned into mysterious bumps and secrets. "That the higher one goes, the further one falls."

His consort folded his hands demurely on his lap, not even attempting to take control of the wheels as Yunxu pushed him into the Palace, towards his own quarters.

It felt new, to wheel his consort like this, not having him _brought_ , but _taking_.

There were many, many reasons why he— why they— were doing it, in this way, on this day, but he couldn't help but feel the rise of a pleasure, that this was how he was bringing Chen Pingping in. His _huang-guifei_ into his Palace with his own hands, into his _home_ , officially, before the entirety of the world. 

The Alpha in him purred its pleasure.

"That is true," Yunxu said, as the pillars of the walkways rolled past them, Pingping's wheels silent on the smooth stone. "But you have fallen many times before."

"I have," Pingping said. "But never before with such a heavy weight."

His tone was still serious, measured, paced; was he a little breathless?

Was it excitement, too, or the fact that his pregnancy, the mark of _his_ possession and virility, was taking up too much room for him to breathe with the ease he'd had, the first time round?

"Are you unsure," Yunxu said, voice low, "that there would be no hands to catch you?"

His Xiaochangzai's breath hitched, and his pale fingers curled inwards, knuckles turning white on the grey arm of the chair. Yunxu looked at him for long moments before he made a decision, spinning the chair around until the back of it was against the wall of the hallway, and then dropped to one knee

There were other eyes here, no matter how much they seemed to be alone. There always were spies on him in the Palace – for the Empress, for the Empress Dowager, and even his sons (though only Lao Si left now that Lao Er no longer bothered, and Lao Si's spies had never been particularly well-trained, so easy enough to dodge – and even the study where he spent most of his time would have people reporting to others every move he made.

Let them see, he thought to himself. Let them hear. His fingertips brushed the embroidered hem of his consort's veil, and tugged it down so he could look into those eyes.

"When you first came to me, I was an Alpha with too much ambition," he said. "I had a position but it is one of the forgotten, already cast aside as inconsequential from the start, worthy only for holding meetings for poetry or going to war, but not for true decisions of weight. You lured me to you, and when I told you that I wanted you for your mind, you smiled and forged yourself into a weapon."

His Xiaochangzai's smile was crooked and very small, and his fingertips were smooth and cold on Yunxu's jaw. "The world you painted was beautiful." One in which Qing was no longer the beaten-down country under Beiqi's heels, but strong and fierce like a dragon breathing fire, like a tiger baring teeth, and its citizens would never needed to be afraid of invasion, endlessly-rising taxes to finance defeats, or Ministers and magistrates so corrupt that the law no longer had meaning. "So, I wanted to help make it happen."

"And you did," Yunxu said, tilting his head towards that hand. "But it had been thirty years, and you had worked hard and suffered greatly." His fingers trailed a line from shoulder to elbow. "Tell me, Xiaochangzai, do you still remember what it feels like to be safe?"

"Have I not proof," Pingping took his hand, and laid it above where their children rested below his heart, "right here, Your Majesty?"

"The results of a heat you tripped into when I allowed you a title that had always been yours," Yunxu murmured. "Have I truly treated you so cruelly?"

"Have you known me to allow myself to be used cruelly?" his consort murmured, hand still on his. "Do you think my heart and mind to be so bendable?"

"You miss my point," Yunxu said, quietly, spreading his palm over the embroidery, too thick for him to feel the direct warmth of his consort's skin and belly.

"You ask me," Pingping murmured, "if you had been lacking in providing for me?"

A heat was an indication of safety – that his Pingping had not had a heat for years, until this year, meant he had not provided enough safety, had not given him the safety an Alpha should have.

Or—

Or that Pingping had not _perceived_ it, and it was..

"You gave me the freedom to be the weapon of Qing," Pingping murmured. "to enact the vision you had painted. How is that a lack?" His smile was soft, the barest upward quirk of his lips. "To build this country and the safety for all within."

His hand shifted, tangled fingers with Yunxu's. "It was my own choice, to be so forged, and to be so used."

"And it is still my choice now, is it not, Your Majesty?"

"Twenty years without a heat says plenty," Yunxu said, but even as he spoke, he knew that his words rang hollow. Because his Pingping was right, as always: there was a certain privilege, a certain safety, that came from being allowed to be more than a pampered, spoiled omega child. Just as his Lao Er (soon once more to be Ze'er, if everything went to plan) had grieved, and struggled with every step he took in a beta's clothes and with a beta's hairstyle, his Xiaochangzai had _thrived_ as figure of Beiqi's nightmares, as the head of the terrifying monster that was the Investigative Bureau.

Still— "To be kept in ignorance," he said, keeping his eyes on Pingping, "is to be kept safe." A gentle brush of his fingertips – callused, as always, from the forging of arrowheads and the pulling of bowstrings – over the corner of one eye, now heavily creased by cares throughout the world. "Yet if you had been kept so, you would have suffocated."

"Your Majesty," Pingping said, "has always known me best." His lips crooked upwards at one side. "It is a fortunate subject who is chosen by a perceptive lord." Then he chuckled, clearly seeing Yunxu's displeasure writ all over his face – his Xiaochangzai might be his subject, like everyone in Qing, but he was much more than that, so much that the term no longer applied to him – before he leaned forward to touch their foreheads together.

"Twenty years without a heat," he whispered, "in exchange for the country at its heights, the lowest taxes of decades, and an utter dearth of corruption within your court." His grin widened, and his voice lowered, "Except for, of course, the lies that you allow."

"All people lie at some point," Yunxu said, "It is the kind of lies that they tell that is important."

His fingers shifted, slid over the hairline over his Xiaochangzai's temple, even as his thumb spread down to the corner of Pingping's mouth, almost brushing his lip.

"But this..."

Pingping had never lied to him. He had never needed to.

He searched Pingping's eyes. "Is it truly worth it, my Xiaochangzai?" and waited for his reaction. 

His Xiaochangzai smiled and tilted his head to the side. Yunxu cupped his face, tracing the lines at the corners of those eyes to the grey of his hair, down to the thinned skin that covered his cheekbones, and then curving inwards to follow the folds between his nose and mouth.

"I would find this life worth it if I had spent it by the side of His Highness, the Prince of Chen," Pingping told him, eyes fixed on his. "Even cloistered and sheltered, never seeing much beyond the estate, and never reading and hearing more than the poems and novels that cross my hand, I would have found it a life worth living, because it would be by your side."

Yunxu's breath hitched in his throat.

"You allowed me to wear your mark for twenty years without latching chains on my ankles or placing a cage over my head," his consort, his _future Empress_ , continued, still giving him that soft, quiet smile. "You looked at the way I took my caste and made it into a blade, the way I dug my claws into an Alpha's instinctual protectiveness, and you _laughed_ with delight and called me a wonder."

Thin fingers, always a little cold after the injury he had received, curled over his own, and Pingping turned his head and nuzzled his palm. "You have allowed me a lifetime of building your dreams with my hands. Why would I have any regrets?"

"You are a wonder, no matter what," Yunxu said.

He shifted closer, rubbing his thumb over his omega's cheek. "But for the last twenty years," he said, "Our son had known nothing of you."

And the fact that Pingping hadn't _realised_ that the title of Niang was his to claim. The sheer acknowledgement of that fact had been enough to drop him into a heat— and—

It was a regret. An apology he wanted to give but—

He tilted his head, and fit their mouths together, as gentle a pressure as he could manage.

A lifetime of Pingping building _his_ vision; his true wonder.

Their mouths slid together like that for long moments, Yunxu breathing in his Xiaochangzai's exhales to warm his own lungs. Then, just as he was about to pull apart to breathe properly, his consort grabbed his hand, and rested it on top of his swollen belly.

Yunxu couldn't help but laugh. "I’ve already felt their first movements," he murmured against Pingping's jaw, more lips than breath. And he had; he had made a trip down incognito from the Palace to the Taiping Residence when Chen Pingping had sent word. "Whose eyes have you noticed?"

"It seems," his consort grinned, teeth hidden by Yunxu's neck as he pressed his nose against his scent glands, "our plans are moving right on schedule."

To make use of everything. To keep thinking of the greater picture even at this very moment. Yunxu smiled, then took his Xiaochangzai's cheek between his thumb and forefinger, and kissed him again.

* * *

Her maid didn't need to speak for her to know what was happening. What had happened. 

No consort of Her Imperial husband's had been anything like competition to her position, not even the very first one he took. A common peasant girl from Dongyi; Ning Xia might enjoy some favour, but barbarian blood burned through her veins, and her son was good for nothing but fighting wars on Qing's borders. 

It had been so, for years. It didn't matter that he'd mated that omega Chen Pingping; for all that she couldn't help feeling resentment, that her Imperial husband paid this omega so much attention, he wasn't a consort. No matter how many children he might bear her Imperial husband, they would hardly be able to compete with her Qian'er. 

And then he'd made an announcement, and that had changed _everything_. 

Her Imperial husband was radical, she had always known that: he had been a mere cousin, so far behind the line of succession, when he had started winning wars against Beiqi when Great Qing had suffered decades of defeat. Then there had been that Alpha woman by his side, Ye Qingmei, who was a _merchant_ without a single drop of aristocratic blood, without even a single hint of the existence of a family registry, much less a lineage. Then, with the honours he had won and the money that was hers and therefore his (no point in thinking about that; Ye Qingmei was dead and she had made sure of that herself and paid the blood of her family and cousins for it), he wrested himself onto the throne of the dragon.

She had been proud, once, of his unconventionality. Theirs was a political marriage, that was true – he made her Empress simply to legitimise his claim to the Imperial seat – but she was still allowed to be proud of him despite that, wasn't she? And she wanted to continue being so, because his accomplishments only made Qian'er shine brighter as his son; because the greater the heights he brought the throne, the better the view Qian'er would have when it was his turn.

Then there were the rumours that Chen Pingping was pregnant. She had heard those before, so she ignored them now. Except— her Imperial husband _wasn't_ going to ignore this. No, he was talking about bring his omega – shameless _slut_ that he was, walking out in the streets in public when he was the Emperor's property, given the privilege to be marked and claimed by _her_ Imperial husband – into the Palace. Into his harem. And there was so many rumours, so much talk: that Chen Pingping's child would replace Qian'er once it was born, no matter its sex or caste; that Chen Pingping was meant to supplant _her_.

She held herself above such wagging tongues even as her heart clenched and her hand reached out towards her Aunt and mother-in-law, the Empress Dowager. The old woman had reassured her that it was no easy feat to get rid of a Crown Prince, that the Emperor would court rebellion among his officials if he showed such favouritism, especially since Chen Pingping had no shred of noble lineage, much less any bloodline that could compete with the dragon and phoenix that laid within her veins.

Then the _news_ – not rumours, but straight from the mouth of the dragon His Majesty himself: not only was Chen Pingping pregnant, he was carrying _twins_. And that, the Emperor had said, was a joyous enough occasion, and a fortuitous enough sign, that he would create a whole new rank for the omega:

Imperial Noble Consort. _Huang-guifei_. Barely a step and a breath below the Empress herself.

Given how useful Chen Pingping had been for these past decades – running her Imperial husband's spy networks, his information web, all of that – she could acknowledge and understand why her Imperial husband might find it necessary to do this.

But Chen Pingping was a tool, and tools were only useful when they were _used_.

She'd never thought that he was competition _like this_ , because he had had no right to be.

There shouldn't have been such competition, not even from that quarter – the only real competition was Shu-guifei, a beta woman with blood good enough to produce an omega child, and the backing of her son's political faction.

But an omega could _not_ be emperor, no matter what the boy was doing; eventually he would marry, and be no true competition at all. All he was doing was honing Qian'er's edge, helping refine her son's true mettle to show his Father what a proper heir he was. The true son of a dragon, the one who would inherit his great country and make it greater.

But he'd _create_ an entire new rank for this— this base, shameless creature? And even put him above his own highly regarded Shu-guifei?

These unborn children would be ranked barely lower than her Qian'er, who was proven and tried and tested, a proper Prince, grown and ready to be his Father's right hand.

An insult. An insult that made the royal blood in her veins _burn_ with the slap in the face that these mongrel _dogs_ would be even considered on the same level as _her_ son!

And that he'd done it, wheeling in that hussy directly to his _own private quarters_ , when he had only ever come to _hers_.

* * *

"Don't touch that," Chen Pingping said, flicking her knuckles lightly with his fingertips.

Ning Xia raised an eyebrow and withdrew her hand from the plate of lychees that she had been about to steal. "Did _our_ ," she lilted that particular word just to see his lips twitch, "husband personally deliver that plate of fruits to your table, little Chen Pingping? Is that why you're so possessive of it?"

"It came via the usual routes," Chen Pingping said placidly, "and was delivered here this morning." He waved a hand to indicate the room, and the Guangxing Palace containing it. The place he had finally been allowed to inhabit, Ning Xia thought, amused despite herself, after spending nearly three days in the Emperor's personal quarters, and then his study. Six whole days that he had likely spent being fucked silly, because their husband never had any particular sense of restraint.

"So," Chen Pingping continued, picking one of the bright red hawthorn apples, "I'm not stopping you from eating those because I like them, but because I like _you_."

She blinked, taking the fruit from his hand and biting down automatically. "She'd," she tilted her head eastwards, "made her move, then?"

"Mm," Chen Pingping nodded. "You might say that."

Snorting loudly, Ning Xia tore a big piece of fruit off and crunched hard against it. "What I'm curious about," she said, "is how she managed to poison _lychees_ in the first place. The skins are all left intact."

"It's not a poison that needs to be ingested," Chen Pingping told her.

"How much of a touch?" she asked, now curious, tipping her head to study the lychees. If she squinted, she thought she could see an _almost_ oily sheen. But she wasn't sure if it was just because she expected to see it.

She leaned over to take a delicate sniff; there was nothing obvious that she could smell.

"You tested the poison?"

Or had he left some casually convenient poison out in a place for someone of the Empress's faction to use. It would be exactly like him to do so; he probably would have arranged it such that he knew precisely who used which poison too.

He gave her an amused look. "Do you think I _need_ to test a poison in order to know it's there?" he asked, lips twitching slightly. "Don't worry; it will be tested. Xian'er said that he'd visit later; I told him to bring his interesting gloves made from sheep's guts," Ning Xia blinked; his what made from _what_ , "and he can use those to bring the lychees to Fei Jie for testing."

Taking one of the persimmons from a different plate, he snapped off the dried leaf on top, and bit delicately at the flesh. "All of the other fruits are safe to eat, however."

"Why lychees?" She couldn't help but ask.

"They're the most expensive," Chen Pingping shrugged. "Does she need any other reason than that?"

"She thinks you, little Chen Pingping, would be enraptured with the bountiful gifts of the Imperial Family," Ning Xia snorted, and took another bite of the hawthorn apple, finishing the little thing off – it was barely a snack. "Because a commoner like you," _like me_ , "would hardly be able to resist these. Almost out of season and hideously expensive."

And nothing in taste to those at the height of their rightful season. Why would anyone _want_ out-of-season fruit other than to show off their riches?

"It might be meant as a reminder of my roots," Chen Pingping said, taking another bite of his persimmon. "The provinces don't ever receive out-of-season fruits, after all."

Ning Xia snorted, waving a hand at the very notion before falling silent, chewing on her hawthorn apple as she watched Chen Pingping from under her eyelids.

There was plenty of sympathy in her to be found for the Empress: she was being treated as nothing more than a toy by their Imperial husband and his newest consort, after all, and that was _after_ her immediate family and clan had been annihilated. Ning Xia could understand why she was doing this: all she had left in the world was her son, and now Chen Pingping's presence in the Palace, and the unborn children distending his belly (by the gods, the rumours of twins were _not_ an excuse by His Majesty: there was no way one baby could be that big; he looked like he was about to give birth, and she knew he still had months to go) were threatening her son's position.

But it was difficult for Ning Xia to truly feel for her. Not when the Empress had never tried to befriend the other consorts. Even Liu-guipin, whose lineage was impeccable, had received barely any visits from her. And given that Liu-guipin was a gregarious extrovert made incredibly lonely by her life in the harem, and who could likely talk about anything under the sun, the fact that the Empress _hadn't_ tried to befriend her made Ning Xia wonder if she was not a little dumb.

Besides, what else could she be spending her time on? She herself spent it either keeping in shape or heading out of the Palace, her bookworm little sister spent it drowning herself in paper, Liu-guipin wrote volumes of letters... The Empress couldn't fight, wasn't known for her literacy, and did not have friends outside of the Palace. Did she spend all of her time drinking tea? Was she trying to poison Chen Pingping now because she had too much time on her hands?

"Your thoughts have gone rather sideways," Chen Pingping said, looking amused as he delicately dropped the persimmon seeds onto a saucer.

"And you haven't become less creepy since your retirement," she shot back, tart. "Doesn't it get tiring to know everything all the time?"

"I don't know _everything_ all the time," Chen Pingping said, voice mild.

"Just most things all of the time," Ning Xia said, "and all things some of the time."

She eyed the rest of his fruits, and decided on a persimmon. The safest bet was to just follow his lead – not that she didn't doubt she could withstand some of the more common poisons; but she wouldn't be surprised if one meant specifically to target a pregnant omega would be hideously potent.

She was no ninth standard swordsman, but she was good enough that poisons weren’t _entirely_ scary to her.

The scarier thing was sitting in front of her, contemplating the orange, sugary flesh of his persimmon like he wasn't sure if his children liked it.

Children liked sweet things, of course they'd like it.

"You have a great deal of faith in me," Chen Pingping said, and then abruptly dropped the rest of his fruit onto the plate. Ning Xia watched, blinking, as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and slapped a hand over his mouth, lurching forward as if—

Ah, right. She slid a hand up her sleeve, taking out that cotton-stuffed pouch she brought because she had heard about this. With one hand on his shoulder, she pushed him until his back was flat against his chair, and unknotted the pouch with one hand and her teeth. Then she shoved the opening straight against his nose.

He gasped, sounding like he was suffocating, and Ning Xia had a few moments to wonder at the irony that these children were likely making his body revolt far, far more than any poison could. She watched, tense despite herself, as he forced his own breathing to steady before she pulled her hand away.

"Ginger," he rasped out. "You keep ginger in your _sleeve_."

"Only when I'm planning to visit you," she answered, giving him a crooked smile. He couldn't see it – his eyes were still closed – but when had Chen Pingping needed to _see_ something to be aware of its existence? "You know me; I remember the name of almost every servant in this Palace."

"So you do," Chen Pingping hummed, and then took a long inhale as the back of his head hit his chair. "I suppose I should be glad that _you're_ not the one trying to poison me."

"It would smell good in the process though," Ning Xia said, ruthlessly cheerful, "I am considerate like that."

The colour in his face was returning, slow but surely.

She had been pregnant with just _one_ boy, a big strong one who hammered her internal organs as soon as he'd quickened, and she had been perfectly happy to never repeat the experience.

Chengzhong was a good boy, but one was more than enough.

"I could have brought the smelling salts," she added. "Very effective." And smelled like extremely potent cat pee.

She wasn't sure it _wouldn't_ have made him throw up faster.

He cracked one eye open to stare at her. "If you want me to throw up on you," he drawled, "you should've told me, and I would've made the effort to aim."

She threw her head back and laughed, a loud cackle that she had never tried to curb despite how much the Empress Dowager had always given her the stink-eye about it. The old woman had never liked her anyway, so why would so make any extra effort to try to win her favour? She had better things to do with her time.

Now, however, she stood back up and headed back to her seat, flopping down with her legs sprawled wide open as she stared at him. "You should be far along now that all that," she waved a hand vaguely in his direction, "should have stopped by now."

Chen Pingping picked up his half-eaten persimmon, made a face, and let it drop back onto the saucer. "I had the abominable luck of having it last for the entire time I was carrying the last time," he said, turning towards the teapot. "I suppose that's the case this time, too."

Such a subtle way of nudging towards a subject change. Ning Xia didn't bother stifling her grin. "You know how I tried to warn your firstborn, then?" She arched a brow. "And how very unlikely it is that he would actually listen to me?"

"Xian'er is very stubborn," he said, and she noted the way his smile softened.

He was perfectly at home with manipulating his own expressions, choosing which true emotion to show. But in this case, she didn't think it was _entirely_ deliberate.

His Alpha son was protective over his Niang – and it wasn't a surprise. Even her Zhong'er was protective sometimes, though she'd had to put his ass on the ground several times and redirect his overbearing overprotectiveness to his little brother.

It was cuter to see siblings being adorable together, after all.

"Stubborn like his parents."

"His Majesty would be displeased to hear that."

"Did I specify which parent?" Ning Xia snorted, and reached for her cup of tea, swallowed all the lukewarm liquid before pouring out another. "It says volumes that _that's_ the first name that came to mind."

"If not for His Majesty's stubbornness," if this wasn't Chen Pingping speaking, Ning Xia thought, she would've thought him to be smugly drawling out every word, "then we would not be living in the Palace, or have the titles that we hold."

"I don't think that's called stubbornness," Ning Xia said, placing her elbow on the table and her chin on a fist. "I think that's called a _domineering nature_."

"Are you really _that_ averse to using nicer words to describe things?" Chen Pingping asked, nudging his emptied cup over for her to refill.

Ning Xia grinned at him out of the corner of her mouth. "I like calling it as I see it."

"And what is it called, that the Emperor Our Husband doesn't mind it from your mouth?" Chen Pingping said, as she filled his tea up, not quite to the brim, so he wouldn't risk spilling when he lifted it.

"A masochist," She said, cheerfully. "Besides, I am but a commoner, little Chen Pingping. What do I know of nicer words?"

"Why," Chen Pingping asked, head cocked to the side like a curious bird, "do you keep calling me that?"

"What?" She arched her brow at him again, smirking now. "'Little' Chen Pingping? How can I not?" She spread her hands out. "You always have to crane your neck upwards to look at me when I'm standing up."

"Because I'm in a wheelchair," he said, and she derived a great deal of pleasure at hearing that hint of frustration seep into his voice.

"Or perhaps," she continued, leaning forward a little more, "you are, and will always be, the youngest among all of us."

"What matters three or four years," Chen Pingping murmured over the rim of his cup, "after thirty?"

"It matters," Ning Xia shot back, "as much as I want it to matter."

He huffed, shaking his head, and she didn't bother to hide her own grin. It was always fun to remind him that, when it came to inconsequential arguments like these, his cleverness still wouldn't let him be able to win against her.

Clever was as clever does; but he would always be younger than her, therefore she was always going to be able to call him _little_ , even if his rank far exceeded hers, and became Empress.

There was obviously no winning against _that_.

His smile had a hint of petulance to it. she reached over to pat his hand as patronisingly as she could. "It's alright," she said, "Jiejie won't bully you _too_ much."

He scrunched his face up at her in a manner that she _knew_ was entirely calculated to make her laugh. So, she obliged, cackling loudly enough to fill the room with the sound. 

"Though," she said, peering at him again, "if I am to be your older sister, then you have to answer me this seriously." She waited until his smile had faded, and he looked as serious as she did, before she asked:

"Are you truly alright?"

"Other than the morning sickness," Chen Pingping said after a moment. "and the fact that I can't always catch my breath—"

Because they were taking up so much space in him, she knew, she could see. And that was not mentioning the fact that he could not stand up and stretch himself out to gain more space in his body for his lungs to expand.

"—and all the other usual complaints an expectant mother might have." he curled his fingers around his teacup, picking it up to balance it on the arm of his chair. "I am truly alright. Xia-jie."

She tipped her head a little.

His face always showed the truth – but not always the complete truth. Those were definite physical complaints, true, but he looked tired, a little haggard. Fall was rapidly coming on, the trees' leaves were turning red and gold in the dying heat, but he still seemed to have cool fingers, rather than the overheated-ness she remembered _she_ had, when she was further along than this in the fall edging to winter.

She was no doctor, but the pregnancy seemed to weigh on him.

"It might please others enough," she said slowly, "when they are called by the title that they had just given themselves. But you should know that I'm not so easily deterred, little Chen Pingping."

As he ducked his head down, chuckling and shaking his head, she stood from her chair to drop down to one knee next to him. Carefully maneuvering around the cup so as to not jar it, she splayed her fingers out and rested it upon the swell of his belly. She could feel the way his breath hitched and his body tensed, as if reminding himself that she had never been and thus should not be a threat to him.

If she was, if she had ever shown any inclination to be, she would have long been fed one of those lychees. The Empress causing the accidental death of the mother of the Imperial Prince charged with guarding the border was more than good enough of a reason for said Empress to be tossed aside and replaced.

"I know you won't tell me if there's anything wrong," she said, catching his gaze and holding it, "much less exactly what is wrong. So, I only want you to tell me one thing."

"Which is?"

"Are you expected to suffer through this entirely by yourself, and without aid?" There was no point in dancing around the words. "Because if you are, Emperor or not, skilled warrior or not, he's going to receive a good beating."

She had met him when they were much younger than this — a score and change. Back then, she had been a … well, captive was what she had technically been. Hostage was a little closer, but mainly, honour had held her where she was, in Beiqi.

And little Chen Pingping had been so _little_ then, fierce and upset with the hurt of his Alpha, so freshly mated she barely understood why anyone had let him out into the wilds of Beiqi then. 

But she had heard of him, yes, she had, this _clever_ slip of a thing who had advice to spare for anyone who gave him the right kind of details, and he had logicked her out of her captivity, and in return she had nursed his Alpha to health. 

If he had remained where he was, in Beiqi's Jianghu, he might never become as good as his Alpha in strength, but the entirety of the Jianghu would have fallen to his feet, his clever eyes and his clever mind.

Of course she was concerned about him, now; his first pregnancy, that she had not witnessed much of, since he had been out of the Palace, and she within, raising a little Alpha of her own, had been mostly rumours on others' tongues. He had been hale, still light-footed enough to dance on rooftop tiles if he had taken the mind to it, always active, always running, always everywhere in the furthest reaches of Qing. 

But that was then, this was now; his health was… weaker than it had ever been, though his mind had sharpened to the point that its edge would slice a hair on a breath. 

"The entirety of Qing's doctors are being emptied of their best and brightest," Pingping said, softly, sincerely. "I will not be alone." 

"And where will _he_ be?" 

She could understand how someone would love this little omega, his bright eyes and brighter mind, quicksilver thoughts and quicker tongue, dangerous and ruthless like the best steel blade. She understood. She could appreciate weapons. 

That his Alpha mate took several concubines and consorts was the necessity of being Emperor, and that Chen Pingping had borne no resentment for it was a huge mark in his favour. That the Emperor favoured her and her bookworm sister over the other women of his harem was to be human. That he favoured Chen Pingping most of all was to be Alpha. But surely, he had to show more than that. 

For Chen Pingping was a human too: he had human feelings, and a human heart – and a human heart and an omega’s body couldn't _not_ desire affection. 

"I would tell you that there is no need for you to worry," Chen Pingping started.

"You mean that it's not my place to do so," she interrupted, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated motion that, luckily, made him smile.

"It's always your place," he said, smirking at her now. "Because you will make it your place, and care nothing of those who would try to stop you."

"That doesn't need to be said," she tossed her head back, slightly dismissive. Then, squeezing his hand – oddly cold, like his blood wasn't rich or strong enough to reach his fingertips – she stood up and leaned a hip against the table. "Go on," she tipped her head up imperiously. "I won't say any more until you're done."

"Thank you for your permission," he said, dipping his head down. He even managed to make his voice sound sincere; she had to stifle a snort. "But... he was there."

"There?" she arched a brow. "Where?"

"When my son was born," he said, and there was the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. "I was hidden away outside the capital, some distance from here, but he made the trip from the Palace every single day whenever he could." His eyes were staring at something far away; the past, she knew. "And so, he managed to be there when the child came."

Her breath hitched. Her son was her Imperial husband's eldest, and stories had always told of fathers being nervous about their first children. But even then, he hadn't been there, caught up with settling matters of the state. She hadn't minded – what could he have done with her in the birthing room? Offer up his hand for her to break bone by bone? – and so had never resented him for it.

So, it wasn't his presence that surprised her. But the _effort_ he had made, simply to be there for no reason than, most likely, to be screamed at and have his hand crushed.

"Then," she said, unsure how to phrase it.

Their husband had not been present for the births of all the other children, either. Qing tradition dictated that It was not the place of a father to be present, least of all that of an Emperor, she had been told, and she had not expected him to even try.

She had been the one who had been present for Shu-guifei, but not for the others, because Consort Liu had insisted on just the Palace doctors and midwives, trying to be the perfect consort, and the Empress...

Well, who knew about the Empress. She still had no idea what she did with her time.

"Then I will not be alone for this," Chen Pingping murmured. "He has made no promise other than that of the best of doctors, the best of care. "

So, she thought, apparently _care_ in this case included _presence._

She thought she might be content, for Chen Pingping, with that.

He must have seen her thoughts reflected in her eyes – no surprise, really, because she had never tried to hide them, and likely couldn't from someone at skilled at reading people as he was – because he smiled.

"Thank you," he said.

"For not trying to poison you?" she asked, arch.

"The consorts of the same Alpha, or beta man," Chen Pingping said, dark eyes very intent on her, "are usually called siblings." His lips quirked up at one side. "Rarely does that become truth."

"Well, if you're going to mention _that_ ," Ning Xia grinned, "then _I_ will have to call you 'Jiejie.'"

"Why?" he blinked.

"You Qing people have put a great deal of weight in the difference between mating and marriage," she said, "but in Dongyi, they are exactly the same." A mating bite would grant an omega the right to be moved to their Alpha's house, and to own half of their property. "Given that you were mated before His Majesty even _met_ me, you have seniority." She patted his hand, teasingly gentle.

"Da jie."

"In Beiqi," Chen Pingping said, "rank determines seniority. That's two out of three, and therefore you cannot call me little anymore." His tone tried to mimic her arch-ness, even as he watched her, not so much surprised as... careful.

And... for someone their age, _shy_.

He hadn't, she remembered, interacted with siblings close to his age, mated just a year past the usual age that omegas in this country did, wide-eyed and so, so young. Cloistered safely away as soon as he was born because this is what _this_ country did with the rare omega boys, astronomical bride-price equal to his isolation.

To have a sibling – to be able to call the others sister – well. that was also something, wasn't it.

"Nah," she said, because that was the expected response, the response that would make him laugh, and smile, and she suspected that he didn't do that often. Not without ulterior motives; not without hiding a thousand secrets behind one curve of the lips. "You'll always be little to me." She leaned further forward, one elbow on the table, and patted him lightly on the arm.

"Xiao da jie."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evocates: In the novel, Ning-cairen was said to either be in love with or really liked Chen Pingping, and that was the reason why the Qing Emperor brought her into his harem. Given that this is omegaverse and Chen Pingping is an omega while Ning Xia is a beta woman, their relationship has been recalibrated as sibling-like. Though, given how long it had been since they had seen each other on a regular basis, it’s still rather stuck back to how they had been decades ago.
> 
> Drelfina: god knows if this is going to be relevant again, but based on this little bit with ning xia: 
> 
> In Dongyi, mating and marriage is not any different – so that means that CPP would be considered the senior spouse compared to the rest of the consorts. 
> 
> In Beiqi, rank determines who can be called little/older etc. since CPP is now a highest ranking consort, then he should be called Jie (older sister) … well, older brother, i guess lol. 
> 
> The implication is that in Qing/Nanqing, the time when someone is officially married/taken as a consort is what determines the 'age'. Since CPP is the latest one to enter, he therefore should call the others 'jie'. However, depending on how we want to deal with this, it also can be determined based by rank as well, rather than just who comes in. This is part of a lot of hougong politics, actually; in some dynasties, rank very likely trumped age or when someone was made a consort – but one way of gaining favour or at least not stepping on people's toes is to, if a higher ranked but newer/younger consort expressed that they were new, and younger, and wants to treat other older/earlier consorts as an older sister and learn from them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which chen pingping is a terrifying watermelon, and gives Chengze and Bi'an a gift. 
> 
> It's not the kind of gift that lets you sleep easy at night, but rarely does Chen Pingping give _easy_ gifts.

Chengze had let Bi'an guard the outside of the door; as grateful as Bi'an was to the ex-Chairman and now soon-to-be Empress, he still had a healthy wariness of the man, of which none had carried over to the man's son. 

It wasn't the position _per se_ that had instilled that wariness, but actions, and Bi'an had witnessed Fan Xian do a few too many ludicrous things in Beiqi to hold any true fear of His Excellency, Shanzhu. 

(One day someone would ask why Bi'an called Fan Xian after a purple fruit, and Chengze would give said explanation as soon as he got a reason why the Investigative Bureau called Fan Xian a Mass Hallucination.)

Fan Xian had a little rage-fit over the lychees while Chengze helped himself to the little hawthorn apples, making a mental note to keep his feet properly in his footwear and tucked neatly under his chair. He himself wasn't _afraid_ of Chen Pingping, but he had… 

Well. 

He knew what Chen Pingping did, as his Alpha's mate, controlling the world, honing himself into a weapon, and now, turning himself into bait and trap both at once, and everything about him made Chengze so _tired_. 

He could have, one day, been Emperor, if no one had moved, if Fan Xian hadn't agreed to help. But he would have been so _tired_. Just those weeks without Bi'an had him almost shattering with the effort of not crying himself to sleep at night; he couldn't imagine going months on-end without his shelter and shield. 

Eventually, Fan Xian left, hand encased in the ugly yellow gloves made from sheep guts that Chengze had once taken from Fei Jie as a guarantee, and had returned to the old man the very moment that Bi'an had returned and said that Fan Xian's condition for helping was for Chengze to drop all of the threats. He watched the Alpha head to the door before he placed his hands on the chair’s arms and started to stand. "Then I will, too," he started.

"Stay," Chen Pingping said. When Chengze blinked at him, he smiled. "Call Xie Bi'an in, too. I know that you get uncomfortable without his presence, especially when you have to face a threat."

Chengze's mouth was very dry.

"I would protest that I am not one, given that I'm not even capable of hefting myself out of this chair," Chen Pingping continued, eyes fixed upon the cup of, as far as Chengze could tell, bitter medicine he was holding to his own nose. "But I don't think that you would believe me."

"You're right," Chengze managed. "I don't." He let out a long, shuddering breath before he finished standing. "I'll call Bi'an in."

"Much obliged."

He had not spoken to the Chairman— no, Chen Pingping, the _huang-guifei_ alone, like this, in this context of – well Chen Pingping _being_ the Emperor's consort, and himself as a lower ranked _Prince_ , since Chen Pingping now outranked his own mother.

And he wasn't sure what Chen Pingping wanted to say.

Bi'an's knuckles showed white as he clutched his sword, to come to stand at Chengze's shoulder, and Chengze made himself sit back down opposite his Father's consort.

"I haven't thanked you for what you are doing," he said, instead of waiting for Chen Pingping to speak. "But I also know that you have your own reasons too."

"Sit." The word was directed straight to Bi'an, and when Chengze's Alpha stiffened even further, Chen Pingping let out a small, soft sound that almost resembled a laugh. "Don't make me strain my neck."

Bi'an nearly collapsed into the chair, and Chengze's hand shot out before he could end up slipping to the floor, steadying him by the elbow. His Alpha’s dark eyes darted towards him, wide, and Chengze dug his nails into his skin, trying to ground, trying to reassure. He swallowed hard.

"Your Highness huang-guifei," Chengze started, and stopped abruptly when Chen Pingping burst out laughing.

He placed the cup back down, folded his hands into a proper salute, and bowed low enough that his swollen belly seemed to swallow up the entirety of his torso. "Your Highness, the Second Prince," he greeted.

Chengze threw up his hands. "What am I supposed to address you as, then?" he demanded.

"We don't have to stick so rigorously to titles," Chen Pingping said, and that wasn't helpful at all.

Then what was he supposed to say? the Imperial court was all about titles, who used what, how and why, and Chen Pingping now outranked his mother in both rank and _favour_ and he'd thought, initially, that maybe this was just him wanting to be properly thanked, or that there was a serious talk about how it was a _favour_ that Chengze owed.

He didn't know how he would even _start_ to pay back such a favour, if at all possible.

"Does Your... Highness intend to have me offend you with discourtesy?" Chengze said, having to make himself let go of Bi'an's arm so he wouldn't claw nervous gouges into his Alpha. Bi'an wouldn't mind; Bi'an would welcome it, but Chengze wouldn't be able to forgive himself for such a loss in control.

"I would rather the two of you, both young and healthy," Chen Pingping said, giving them a pointed stare as he picked up his cup of medicine again, "would stop being so terrified of an omega long past his days of summer." His lips stretched into a thin smile. "Forgive me; I usually tend to be more subtle in my efforts to put people at ease, but I am very tired, and I daresay that you prefer such blunt honesty."

Chengze blinked. This was... Well. This was far more straightforward than he had ever heard anyone speak in the Palace, save for Ning-cairen. He continued staring at Chen Pingping, watching as the older omega sighed, long and deep, before he tipped his head back and drained the medicine in one go.

He looked.... _weak_ wasn't the right word. Neither was _vulnerable_ : Chengze had no doubts that if an assassin came in right now, Chen Pingping would be able to look at him and, with a few words, convince that person to turn around and stab whoever hired them in the kidneys instead. No, he wasn't— couldn't be vulnerable at all.

Tired, perhaps. Worn sounded more fitting. Porcelain clacked loud against each other as Chen Pingping sat the cup down, and Chengze finally found the perfect word:

Frayed.

"Is my Imperial father planning to actually," Chengze heard himself hiss as if from a great distance, "kill you with a pregnancy?"

Chen Pingping snorted. "He has the mind and cruelty for such a thing," he said, as if admitting that Chengze's Father, that _his Alpha_ , could be a monster was something that came easily to him. "But he won't turn it against me."

"Why not?" Chengze couldn't help but ask.

"Because I would see it, and I won't be taken in by it," Chen Pingping said, giving him a crooked smile. "And we have too many games like those going on already for another to be of any fun." He paused, and then added, far too lightly, "He generally doesn't take well to my life being the stakes, either."

 _Fun_.

How can death by pregnancy be _fun_ and games?!

"It should never be stakes at all," Bi'an said, voice a low rasp, and Chengze bit his lip, unable to stem the rush of intense fondness for his Alpha's protective scent, the sandalwood rising briefly before he regained control of himself. "He is your _Alpha_!"

"It is already difficult enough to imagine what you are doing with-- with the children," Chengze said. "Forgive me, but that is hardly 'past your days of summer', when you use yourself like this!"

What was the point of him trying to set them at ease? What did he _want_?

"He is my Alpha," Chen Pingping said, eyes closed and tone placid in a way that made Chengze want to dig his nails into his own palms. "But he is also the Emperor."

"But—" Chengze started, and fell silent immediately when Chen Pingping shook his head.

"You know how vicious it can be within an Imperial family," he said. "Even leaving aside the plans that are currently in motion, there are always other plots, other minds at work. It takes one, just _one_ strategist with the ability to challenge His Majesty," his eyes snapped open, "and Qing might be put into precarious danger again."

Chengze was silent. His mind had gone blank.

"He is my Alpha," Chen Pingping continued. "In giving me his mark, by claiming me, he has declared my importance." He smiled with thin lips and cold eyes. "If he does not use me, then many others will try."

His gaze made Chengze _flinch_.

It took a moment before his tongue worked again. "Then how does this reassure us? Or put us at ease, to be told that you will be doing what you have always done?" He pressed his thumb against the tips of his fingers, feeling his nails cut into the pad of his thumb, to ground himself.

"Is this a warning? Because I know how much and how well you can plan even as you lie there frayed and embattled within a wheelchair. Your mind is more than equal to twenty able-bodied men."

"I suppose 'ease' is the wrong word," Chen Pingping said, contemplative and a little amused. Chengze locked his jaw to not start grinding his teeth together, and tightened his control over his own breathing when the older omega sighed.

"I wanted things to be less tense when I tell you this, but I suppose it can't be helped." He tapped a finger over the rim of his cup. "I suppose all I can do now is to be straightforward with you."

The frayed edges were still there, Chengze noted, nearly dizzy, but they couldn't take away from the sharp, piercing light of those eyes.

"What is it?" He heard himself ask. Beside him, Bi'an was barely breathing.

"You have acquitted yourself very well in your struggles against," he tipped his head to the East instead of mentioning the Crown Prince's name, and Chengze wondered if Chen Pingping suspected the presence of eavesdroppers. "Your Imperial father knows your intentions and desires, but most do not."

"What—" Chengze started, and fell silent automatically when Chen Pingping held up a hand.

"Some will look to the Third Prince, but he is still young enough that his mother is the ultimate authority over him, and Liu-guipin is under the protection of her clan." The click of a nail against porcelain. "And the Liu clan has not survived the upheaval of the previous generation entirely intact by throwing themselves into a fire."

Chen Pingping reached out, and took the teapot that the approaching servant held out. He poured the newly-brewed tea into their cups, and pushed it over. "Do you understand?"

Chengze did; he knew what his father and Chen Pingping had been implying: he had a choice now. He could choose to keep fighting, and turn the power of his faction to convince the city and then the country and then the Emperor that he was better suited as heir than his unborn siblings. But in order to do so, he would have to become like Chen Pingping. Like his Father.

His Father, the Emperor, who had to use his omega so that no one else would try.

(He was being granted the _privilege_ to choose. Most do not have such a choice. _He_ had never been given such a choice. Not until now.)

Bi'an made a very soft noise, and he was _looking_ at Chengze now. 

He too had recognised that this was a choice that they were being given, and—

Chen Pingping and Father knew about the embezzled funds. They knew, and thus far had done nothing; the very latest had to have been when Fan Xian had returned from Beiqi with Bi'an, the same day he'd insisted on staying in the Investigative Bureau instead of going straight back to the Fan residence. It could have been as early as the day he'd made that decision to siphon the money from Neiku's Beiqi branch. 

The money was burning a hole in his metaphorical purse, easy enough to turn into an army, a guard platoon that would be wholly and entirely loyal to him. 

He stared at the steam of the tea cup. 

It wasn't just tea, but it represented… the terror of trust. 

He could choose to keep fighting. To build and steal and fight for his own safety, that was a privilege that his rank had granted him in Imperial favour and indulgence. But to do it meant he'd have to become a person who could weaponise _himself_ at his most vulnerable, build plans upon plans, and view it all a game. To stake his own life and that of his children, and even that of his Alpha, for gambles that— he would have to plan multitudes of contingencies to safeguard, and yet make it appear effortless, so no one would even think to risk testing them.

It would mean using the people around him as pawns, pushing and judging and caring so _much_ … but being as ruthless with their lives as he would be with his own.

Or he could trust them. Trust these unborn, unknown children to keep his own interests safe.

Trust Chen Pingping to be the terrifying monster who haunted Beiqi's nightmares, and let go of the fight.

"I," Chengze said, still staring at the tea, and then Bi'an reached out for him, closing his hand gently over his, fingers sliding over his own and smoothing them out to tangle together, warm and close and _safe_. 

Let Bi'an be the only shelter he required. 

He leaned in towards Bi'an, and Bi'an shifted to accommodate, letting him turn and press his forehead to Bi'an's shoulder, and slump his own as Bi'an curled his other arm around his back, hand curling to gently slide into his hairline, easing the tightly combed up hair. 

"I am," he whispered,"so tired." 

Porcelain clinked softly as Chen Pingping picked up his own teacup. His gaze was very steady on Chengze, and Chengze knew that he should stop leaning on Bi'an like that. _Sit up straight, look forward,_ he almost smirked at the words of his old tutors floating back into his mind.

(He had never learned those proprieties properly, and his mother had made his tutors stop trying after only a few weeks. He was the precious omega Princess, after all, to be pampered and indulged and spoiled.

Who could have guessed, at that age, the path he would end up having to take?)

But what would be the point of trying to hide what Chen Pingping already knew? What was the point of trying to shield his vulnerabilities when this man in front of him could peel him apart like a soft-skinned mandarin orange, and then pluck at his nerves as easily as gentle fingers could pull apart an orange's segments?

"Ning Xia warned you against getting too involved," Chen Pingping said, making Chengze crack open an eye to peer at him. "She likely said something about your Imperial father and me... that we were vicious and ruthless, perhaps?"

Of course he would know about the conversation, Chengze thought, tired and wry. Of course he would have it down to the precise words.

"Should I tell Ning-cairen that you have spies among her staff?" he drawled.

Chen Pingping waved a hand, "She knows exactly who they are, and she stopped trying to get rid of them decades ago."

"Better the devil you know?" Chengze raised an eyebrow.

"That, and, in her own words, there was no point in trying to prevent the inevitable." He finished his tea and set his cup down. "But do you truly want to talk about Ning Xia?"

The man had wanted them at ease. 

The fear and tension were still there of course, evident in the rigidity of Bi'an's form; his fingers were gentle against him, but his arms were stiff still. 

If anything happened, if anyone attacked, Chengze knew, distantly, Bi'an could still move fast enough that there would be no threat anymore. 

Talk of spies made him… so _tired_. He'd once told Fan Xian – ah, of course he had spies, of course his brother the Crown Prince had spies on him too. 

He knew which ones were his brother's – he wasn't _sure_ which ones were the Investigative Bureau's, nor which ones were _both_. It had been easy enough for him to leave them all to carry his shoes, the fruit he wanted, let Bi'an direct them to clear the streets instead. His brother the Crown Prince could know where he _went_ , but only Bi'an ever knew what Chengze _said_. 

Holding the names of all these spies in his mind was tiring enough, when half his life was playing hard into the expectations of being an omega Prince playing a role of a beta and true competitor, and keeping all of that _true_. The thought of having to know all of these and plan individualised information for each of them, to forever be acting various faces, various facades, made his shoulders _ache_ from the weight. 

How much of Chen Pingping's fraying appearance was due to his physical condition, and how much was from all these plans? 

Chengze knew the answer – the spirit was willing, but the flesh was pregnant. 

Chengze was the opposite. The flesh was fit but uneager, the spirit was exhausted, and the heart was sick. He was so _tired_ , especially considering the reasons why he had chosen to take on this burden in the first place. 

(It was safer to exhaust himself with spies, than to stay where the Eastern Palace could touch him.)

Reaching out with one hand, he took the cup and felt the heat seep through the fine, Palace porcelain to scald his fingertips with fine pinpricks of heat. "Then do we talk about the spies you have about my person?" he said. "How often have they carried my shoes?" 

He had a choice, he could make it. He took a shuddering breath. "Have I been too involved in Your Highness's plans, and I am to back off?" 

Was being allowed to know about the poisoned lychees a warning? He wouldn’t be surprised; he knew full-well to touch nothing in the Palace that hadn't been vetted first. But the thought of _Bi'an_ having to taste his food first, and _dying_ because of it…

And having _that_ be his life, forever… 

He already never touched pastries, for all that they were his favourite, once. 

Thinking was so exhausting, circles spiralling over and over until he just wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't. Not right now. Not when Chen Pingping was looking at him, eyes dark and knowing, as if saying, _I know. You're not like me_.

He knew he wasn't. He knew, too, that he was _glad_ that he wasn't. Not only because of the exhaustion, but because he could not imagine how Chen Pingping could ever feel _safe_ when he thought from so many angles, when he held so much information in his mind.

 _I don't understand,_ Chengze recalled asking his mother once, _why are omegas discouraged from knowing too much about the world? We are always given books and poems to read; to know and understand and be well-verse in those means to know the world, isn't it?_

Her mother had not replied for long moments. When she finally it, head lifting from her book right when Chengze was starting to become very bored, she had said:

 _How do you expect to ever feel safe, Chengze, if you know the ugliness of the world?_ She had turned a page of her book, the scent of old paper floating over to him. _Novels and poems show only a refracted image. I thought you knew that._

He did; he just hadn't put the pieces together. His mother had known that, too; she had always been perceptive when she had wanted to be. But, unlike Chen Pingping, she had never chosen to do anything about it. But, unlike Chengze himself, she had never really needed to do so.

His eyes slipped shut, and he let out a long, long breath. He heard the thud of the porcelain teapot on the wooden table before Chen Pingping spoke again:

"The spies that the Bureau set on you never learned much." He gave Chengze a soft chuckle. "That's partly why I said that you have done well." 

Chengze supposed he should feel glad to be praised by Chen Pingping. He had to fight down a shiver instead.

"You have always been involved in my plans," Chen Pingping continued, voice soft and mellifluous as always even when he said something so horrifying, "because you are your Imperial father's child. And would you tell me, in all honesty, that you do _not_ wish to back off?"

Just like how his brother Chengqian had always been involved, somehow. How his Xiongzhang was involved too, in the far reaches of the borders. 

But how could he back off? Even as he wanted to? 

To understand was to know, to know was to never feel safe. Once he had run out of the sheltered ignorance of the Palace, he had no choice but to always be involved, to learn how to shield himself and Bi'an from the wider knowledge of the world, to learn how to show only facets he could afford to weaponise, to lose. 

What a picture they must make, he thought, to the Empress' spies. Him curled against Bi'an's side, soft and vulnerable, in front of Chen Pingping who was both at once the country's most terrifying omega, but also one who was currently so big with child that steps would have been a trial even if he didn't need a wheelchair. 

Soft, unguarded omegas confiding in each other. 

What must she _think_? What did Chen Pingping want her to think, given that he knew full well that she would be watching?

"It doesn't matter what I wish, does it?" Chengze said, softly, to keep the shakiness of fear from his tongue. "Like time, there is no turning back after Ignorance is lost." 

He wanted so badly to back off – to not be involved. He wanted to take Ning-cairen's advice, and to close his eyes and ears. But he had been trained – by whose hand, he knew, oh how he _knew_ – and he couldn't stop thinking of the angles, the image, the thoughts that would come from what this scene looked like, even if they talked about nothing but fruit and tea, it would have meanings aplenty in the right (or wrong) ears. 

"There is no turning back," Chen Pingping nodded, "but there is always the possibility of leaving you out from now on. To shield you from even the ripples caused by your Imperial father's and my actions." He swirled the cup of tea in his hand, and looked at Chengze from under his lashes. "Difficult, perhaps, but doable."

Ironic, to be given shelter, to be given _safety_ , by another omega.

(Even if he was a Prince, he couldn't protect other omegas. Not as himself. He couldn't even protect _himself_ , especially not when he had been younger, and unguarded against his own _brother_.)

Unlike other omegas who could be sheltered by their parents, and then their mates, Chengze had always had to seek his own safety, once he knew and understood too much. The curse of being too clever, too curious meant that he read, he knew, he _learned_ , and once knowledge was gained there was no turning back.

"What deed would earn such shelter?" Chengze said, his fingers tightening on his cup until Bi'an gently tugged at him, made him relax his grip.

Chen Pingping made that sound again, half thoughtful and half amused, as if Chengze was a child who had asked a clever question or given an unexpected answer. And though Chengze could readily admit that he was likely a child to someone like Chen Pingping, who held the entire capital city and perhaps even the country within the palm of his hand, it still rankled to be treated as such.

"The daring to step out of the Palace with your hair bound up in the style of betas," Chen Pingping said. "The determination that had you gathering all of your hair when your twentieth birthday passed, as if you were truly a beta son."

He paused, turning to another approaching servant to take a plate from the tray held out to him. "The strength to keep going, no matter how much it is against your nature." His smile widened, and he set down the plate of grapes right in front of Chengze with a quiet click.

"It would have been easy to give up," Chen Pingping continued. "To request for a marriage in Beiqi or Dongyi, or to an indispensable member of a powerful clan in the country, or even out to the provinces. Various methods that do not require you to place the burden of your own survival and safety upon your own shoulders."

Plucking a grape from the branch, he held it out not to Chengze, but Bi'an. "When your choices denied you the privilege of being a chess piece, placing you in the player's seat, you were weighed down but did not despair. Instead you tried to become a chess _master_ instead."

"Those prices had been paid," Chengze said, shifting just a little, watching Bi'an stare at the grape, watched his Alpha take a deep breath, and—

Call it a leap of trust, he supposed.

—Watched Bi'an pop it into his own mouth instead of passing it to Chengze, gaze lifted to the man in front of them. Not defiant.

Daring. 

"Especially since the goods have already been delivered," he finished. For all actions had reactions and consequences, and he had learned his lesson very well on the day he had made himself watch twenty good soldiers, his brother's people, die for his careless frivolity.

"There are always better chessmasters," Chengze said. "I would hardly dare claim one tenth of the ability in front of the greatest player in the history of our country."

He kept his gaze on Bi'an's jaw, now, watching how he chewed once, and swallowed, seeds and skin all.

"I would not dare to claim that title," Chen Pingping demurred immediately, like Chengze knew he would. "Any games of chess I play are with the guidance of His Majesty upon my hand."

How much, Chengze wondered, was the expectation of humility expected of an official, and how much was an omega's deference to their Alpha? And how much, if at all, were those words motivated by Chen Pingping's genuine and sincere love and belief in Chengze's Imperial father?

The children in his belly should stand proof that Chen Pingping had faith in his Alpha, enough to go into heat because of it. Yet Chengze was all-too-aware that Chen Pingping was using those children as weapons and, now that he had chosen to step back, they would be raised for the sole purpose of becoming the next Qing Emperor. Unlike Chengze, these children would never get a choice.

"I see that Your Highness has not grasped my meaning," Chen Pingping said, drawing Chengze's thoughts back to the present. He nudged the plate of grapes further forward.

Chengze stared at the dark grapes, well-known to be his favourite. It was easy to note if the bloom on their skins were off, and easier still to wash them. 

(He had never told Bi'an why he didn't touch pastries, and ate only fruit. The things lacing the Imperial Noble Consort's fruit was merely poison; but sedatives could be safely cooked into pastries. And… sedatives had been only the first step. If he'd stayed – who knew whether his brother would have used the yet-more dangerous _heat-inducers_? 

The Empress wanted Chen Pingping dead. His brother had had… other intentions.)

He didn't have to look up to know exactly how much Chen Pingping knew what went on in the Palace, from even before Chengze had first _left_ it. 

"You should know your Imperial father," Chen Pingping said, "and the rewards he gives to those he deems worthy."

"His rewards," Chengze said, remembering Fan Xian's vague, barely coherent mutterings about _the bastard emperor_ , and _this fucking family_ , "are great indeed."

Great rewards – the worthy were given more worthy assignments; he remembered watching Fan Xian be given task after task, clawing his way out of them.

He had literally been there to watch their Imperial Father give Fan Xian the actual price for Chengze's cousin's hand: pay it, and he could marry her.

(But it was still yet unawarded – Wan'er was still waiting while Fan Xian snarled his way through the accounting systems of the Neiku, having not yet earned _their_ respect and trust the way he'd... probably earned a modicum of the Investigative Bureau's.)

"Does my Imperial father wish me to pay my respects to my Imperial mother, Her Majesty the Empress?" Chengze said, tucking his teacup into Bi'an's hand before reaching for the grapes, forcing himself to sit upright. He was strong enough, he could stiffen his spine, and he could bear the weight of yet more machinations.

Ning-cairen had said, stay away. Sit on your hands. They'd try to draw you in.

He'd tried, he thought, sardonically. _Tiredly_. He'd tried and was still drawn in anyway.

Was he to be the knife to be twisted into Her Majesty's side, then? Was he to goad the Empress, the mother of the brother he _feared_ , into taking more obvious, more vicious action?

Chen Pingping smiled, sharp and bright and vicious. "I've always thought," he said, every word clearly enunciated, "you to be a clever child." Then he continued, in a much milder tone, "She, of course, already knows that you're here."

For this, he thought, Chen Pingping promised a shield; to allow Chengze to return to his natural, predisposed role of just another omega.

Chengze's lips twitched, an echo of Chen Pingping's, though he felt no mirth, and couldn't force anything like gaiety to it.

"Of course she does," Chengze said. "I had brought Fan Xian with me as a guest, and I had announced as much when I came to visit. Of course I should, since I have paid my respects to Your Highness, also pay mine to Her Majesty."

The fact that he had come to visit Chen Pingping _before_ the Empress, wouldn't be lost on her.

That it meant he was acknowledging Chen Pingping as higher-ranked – that he would inevitably become Empress, and he was acknowledging the shift in the power of His Majesty the Emperor’s harem.

It wouldn't have mattered if he'd just left without going to the Empress – the fact was, he'd stayed behind after Fan Xian was more than enough evidence. He'd relaxed in front of Chen Pingping. Everything he'd done, Chen Pingping could spin it any way he wished, and the Empress would see what she wanted to see.

Going to greet the Empress was just adding another layer of legitimacy to His Highness the huang-guifei's faction. It was _giving_ Chen Pingping _his_ faction.

"I know it might not seem that way if you look at Xian'er's struggles," Chen Pingping said, "but His Majesty _does_ keep his words regarding the rewards promised." He gave Chengze a thin-lipped smile. "And if he doesn't, _I_ do, and he knows better than allow for us to work at cross-purposes."

There was a reason why, Chengze knew, when Fan Jian had come to them, those years ago, saying that he'd spoken to the Emperor's Omega about Xie Bi'an's seeking permission to mate, it had been just to Chen Pingping, not to the Emperor.

Everyone knew that if Chen Pingping knew something, it was as good as the Emperor knowing; the Eunuch Hou might speak with the Emperor's voice, but Chen Pingping's actions might as well be accomplished by the Emperor's own hands.

Sometimes, Chengze exhaled slowly, hands moved without conscious thought.

He could see – feel – the realisation of such a conclusion come to Bi'an. His Alpha was not stupid, he thought with hopeless affection. No matter how many times or how fervently he claimed Chengze was too smart and too good for him, Bi'an was no fool, and he could read Chen Pingping's meaning as well as Chengze could.

Probably clearer, since this was blatant enough to tell them: Chen Pingping was no helpless omega.

All mated Alphas should know this truth: Omegas _chose_ , and choosing was deliberate, conscious, and had to be constantly _repeated_.

"Of course," Chengze said, "it is better to work with one goal in mind."

And it was confirmation.

A _gift_ of information.

Chengze plucked a grape from the bunch that Chen Pingping had touched, and put it in his own mouth, before folding his hands into the proper salute, and bowing low over the table.

He didn't have to express his gratitude – information was a terrible gift, especially to an omega.

Chen Pingping smiled, soft and gentle, and Chengze could see, in that one moment, exactly how and why Fan Xian could address this absolutely terrifying man as " _Niang,_ " and mean that intimate, loving term with all sincerity.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The empress makes her move. 
> 
> it goes exactly like how you'd expect.

"You're taking a risk," Shadow rumbled from behind him.

"Mm, I know," Chen Pingping replied absentmindedly, shifting around in his wheelchair as he adjusted the bright red robe over his body. When the road became a little bumpier – the stones used were still smooth, but were cut into smaller and smaller pieces the closer they were to the main entrance, and the joins in between were made from dried cement just a little lower than the stone – he bit back a hiss and curled his hand underneath the heavy swell of his belly. "That's exactly the point," he continued with some effort.

"It would be easier," Shadow said flatly, "if you had moved the timeline forward."

"That'd give Xian'er," he paused abruptly as one of the children slammed their foot against his diaphragm, driving the air out of his lungs. A sharp exhale, a forceful inhale, and he tried again, "That'd give Xian'er even less time to get a handle on the Bureau, and six months is already very soon. Not to mention that being like this," he jerked his chin down, "gives everything a sense of reality and urgency."

Shadow grunted. He had said his piece, Chen Pingping knew, and would not protest further. Still, despite being even more noiseless than the wheels on the stones, he made his disapproval clear. It was a few more moments before the disapproval faded – Shadow was professional, and knew his place.

He had had to seek obvious permission from the Emperor, being wheeled across the entirety of the Palace to the Emperor's study, for this little jaunt out of the Palace, the first time in months. He hadn't _left_ the Imperial Palace since he'd been carried in by the Emperor's own hands, and everyone within the Palace knew it.

Driven stir-crazy, bored, a heavily pregnant, extremely vulnerable omega would be desperate to get out for some air – which meant a palanquin, instead of a carriage.

There was a part of Chen Pingping that felt rather bad for the people tasked to carry his palanquin. They were all Imperial Guards, of course, Alphas to the last one of them, so it wasn't a matter of being able to bear his weight. No, it was the tension and nervousness he could already feel from them even when they were still some distance away; they were clearly bursting into cold sweat at the thought of having to be responsible for not only the safety of the Emperor's Omega, but for the two unborn Imperial children he carried.

As if knowing that he was thinking about them, the babies kicked him hard: one in the kidney, and the other in the liver. Chen Pingping let out a long, low breath.

A movement at the corner of his eye. Chen Pingping lifted a hand, and Shadow went very still, clearly controlling himself, as Xie Bi'an dropped down from the rooftops to land beside his chair.

"Your Highness," the Second Prince's chosen Alpha greeted, dipping his head low into a salute.

After decades of being addressed as 'Chairman,' Chen Pingping thought wryly, 'Your Highness' still sounded strange to his ears. Still, it wasn't like he had to get used to it: he was due for another change in address before long.

"Let General Xie serve as the attacking force," he murmured, eyes flicking up to Shadow. "You keep to defence."

Shadow had been briefed earlier – he knew it was a possibility. But those words still earned him a brief disapproving glance, even as Shadow nodded, the barest inclination of his head.

His words had been, after all, barely a breath.

Xie Bi'an straightened up, for once wearing the armour of the Palace guard, though he still carried the sword that Ning-cairen had sourced and gifted to him, and high around his right arm was the discrete banner of the Second Prince's insignia.

The Second Prince had, with all show of solicitiousness, seconded his General Xie to Chen Huang-guifei a week earlier, after an assassination attempt that _no one_ could trace to _anyone_ , since the assassin had died before any agents could prevent his suicide.

Not definitively.

The day was just a hint of cloudy.

A fine day, Chen Pingping thought, for murder.

* * *

The attempt came approximately twenty minutes after they left the Palace's gates. The barest minimum of effort made, Chen Pingping thought, to pretend that the attack did not come within the Palace itself. 

"Your Highness!" One of the Imperial Guards called, sounding a little strangled. Chen Pingping tipped his head, pushing away the panic in the voice to listen to something far harder to catch— ah, Shadow's fingers on the back of the wheelchair he was pushing, indicating that there were an upward of fifty men.

Which meant that the Empress Dowager likely did not finance this. If she had, the numbers would have been double. Because the Empress might want to look down to Chen Pingping, thinking that he would be easier to kill, but he had not built a reputation for his Black Knights for nothing.

"Set the palanquin down," he called, because those men clearly needed some kind of direction and instruction. "I do hope that all of you will make at least the minimal attempt to protect your own lives."

Once the palanquin had been set onto the ground, Chen Pingping plucked the edge of the curtain with one hand, drew it back, and hooked it onto the side. "General Xie!" he raised his voice slightly. "Try to leave at least two of them alive, and remove their false teeth!" 

Then, leaning forward as much as he could, he rested his hands on the swell of his stomach, and settled back to watch the carnage.

General Xie proved himself truly worthy of his rank; not that Chen Pingping had doubted his abilities nor reports from Beiqi. The Eldest Prince was not prone to exaggeration, for all that he indulged his younger brother.

He had given Xie Bi'an the opportunities, but the man had performed sincerely and as much as he could, and deserved every honour he'd won. 

It was, Chen Pingping thought, a little unfair, to the assailants, that their master was that desperate. If he was that much kinder of a person, if he had enough heart left after having portioned it to so many pieces and given them all away, he would have mourned their unnecessary deaths.

Instead, he kept his breathing steady, and rubbed soothing circles upon his belly. His children, he thought, amused despite himself, were very much like their father: bloodshed like this seemed to excite instead of scare them. In fact, he would be genuinely surprised if he did not end up birthing two Alphas— his thoughts paused, and he tipped his head to the side.

Only someone who had met Wu Zhu would be able to notice his presence: he did not breathe, had no real scent, and did not possess a single shred of zhen qi. But Chen Pingping had known him for _years_ ; known him not only as Ye Qingmen's constant companion but a person in his own right. One who always smelled of steel and always, _always_ with the quietest _hum_ that reminded Chen Pingping of a bee's buzzing. Something that was not quite sound, more of a... presence.

Wu Zhu was here. And, if Chen Pingping wasn't mistaken, that bright spot of zhen qi, domineering in its presence, was Fan Xian.

He was safer here than he might be in the Palace, he thought with amusement.

But Xian'er had better not move to overshadow Bi'an with his over-protectiveness, or else... well he had a contingency for that of course, but he liked this current plan of very specific and targeted massacre. 

It was... neater that way. Almost poetic with the sheer number of birds he could grasp with this specific, directed stone.

General Xie moved like he was scripted; cutting through necks and lives like so much grass, shearing through the men as easily as the top escorts could dance in their silks. 

A flash of his blade, and three men fell; a twist of his sword and blood flicked in an arc.

Was the Empress watching? Personally? Chen Pingping certainly hoped she was: he would hate for her to miss a beautiful sight like this, her men being defeated though it might be, and, well. To know that the man with such lethal grace was nothing more than a common street orphan... perhaps it would teach someone like her, far more concerned with lineage and the deeds of her dead ancestors than her own, something about equality. Though, he wouldn't quite mind if she wasn't here, either; she would soon be worth very little.

(There had always been that particular contradiction, hadn't there?)

After a few more moments to check that Xian'er had truly decided to stay on the rooftop, Chen Pingping let out a sigh and leaned back. The slight movement sent the children rollicking around again, and he let himself close his eyes— and they remained closed even as he heard a disturbance from two streets away.

Ah, he thought. It seemed that Xian'er might have a chance to make a move, after all.

Another contingent, most likely; it seemed that the Empress Dowager might actually be involved, after all. The actual Imperial Guard would take a little longer to muster, since they were definitely not warned, and, besides, some of them were the Empress’s people, persuaded to be just a little slow. 

Bi'an was through most of them, though he would not be in time to deal with newcomers. 

As good as he was, he was just one man, and no one could be as quick as Wu Zhu, to be in two places almost simultaneously.

He was, however, trying to keep a handful alive for the tender mercies of the Investigative Bureau, and knocking them out and then jerking their mouths open to rip out the false teeth – that was taking some time.

Ah, there it was: a very familiar shout. Chen Pingping didn't bother to hide his chuckle, shaking his head as he heard Xian'er jump onto the assailants before they could even reach the street he was in. The good thing, he thought to himself, about having sent some of the Black Knights ahead to clear streets was that they were very thorough about it, which means that it wasn't one or two streets that had been cleared, but practically half of the district. 

Ye Qingmei might mutter something about Imperial privilege. Xian'er would sigh about people losing their livelihoods for the day. But Chen Pingping reckoned that the commoners would rather stay out of Imperial politics, especially when it got _this_ bloody.

Another kick, this time straight to his lungs, and he lurched forward, breath rushing out of him in a huff. He closed his eyes and didn't hide the laugh: all of the Empress's efforts, and she still couldn't match his unborn children when it came to causing him difficulty and pain.

Or perhaps, he gritted his teeth as he tried to steady his breathing as the other baby joined its sibling in attacking his lungs, he should think of it that only _his Alpha_ could cause him such pain.

That was his Imperial seed that was now determined to make mincemeat of his lungs, after all.

There were gurgles of death around him – Shadow kept to his orders, he and his men keeping a decorous periphery around him to ensure he was safe, but it was perfunctory, and they did not step further into the fray.

Only Shadow kept an ear out for him, two steps closer to Chen Pingping then the other Black Knights, but short of Pingping going into actual labour right then and there, he was going to say absolutely nothing about the massacre going on about him.

The children's kicks weren't very rhythmic – it wasn't a good way to tell time by the way they were pounding on his internal organs – so he could only try to take shallow breaths, shut his eyes and not look at any more overly-stimulating blood, in hopes that these bloodthirsty children of the Qing's dragon would settle back into some semblance of calm.

By the time they did, the immediate surroundings were quiet, but for a few wet sounds that were a few men breathing their last.

"Your Highness." As expected, General Xie was immediately right outside the palanquin. There were a few splatters of blood on his clothes – none, Chen Pingping noted with some amusement – on the insignia of the Second Prince on his arm. "Are you alright? Have you been harmed in any way?"

"If you considered being beaten up by the Emperor's children to be harmed," Chen Pingping drawled, unable to stop himself from teasing the boy, "then I am. If not, then no, I'm fine." At Xie Bi'an's poleaxed stare – hah, he could _not_ keep his poker face all the time – he chuckled softly, leaning back against the thin wooden wall of the palanquin as he gave the tall, strong Alpha that the boy from Cixi Orphanage had grown into a soft smile. "Not even the blood managed to touch my sleeve, much less any of their blades come close to me." He dipped his head down.

"You've done well."

Xie Bi'an blinked. "Only my duty," he said, and raised his hand in a salute. "May I know your plans, Your Highness?"

"We were going to the Investigative Bureau, were we not?" Chen Pingping asked, raising his voice just a little higher so Shadow could hear. "The Black Knights will take charge of those left alive." He paused, and then thought a little further. "Shadow, leave a few of the Knights behind to collect the bodies and do the usual procedure of searching them for identifiable information."

"Niang," Xian'er's voice suddenly came from outside the palanquin and just slightly above his head. "You're not in charge of the Bureau anymore, you know."

"But the Black Knights," Chen Pingping said mildly, "have been given personally to me.”

He didn't lean out to look at his Xian'er, but shifted back a little. “Granted,” he let his smile slip back into his voice, “they are still on loan to the Investigative Bureau,” hard for them not to be, really, when they formed the entirety of the Fifth Division, “feel free to command them to your will, Chairman Fan."

Xian'er made a noise that sounded like a stifled growl of frustration, and he smiled. And, oh, was that a _smirk_ breaking General Xie's poker face?

It looked like his efforts to make the two of them get along had been working, after all.

"We should go," Shadow said.

"Mm," Chen Pingping nodded agreeably. "Is the wheelchair clean?"

"Untouched."

"Good." He folded his hands inside his sleeves, and settled back into the seat of the palanquin. "Let's get going, then."

* * *

When Chen Pingping arrived back at the Palace, the Emperor was waiting for him. Not in his study, as he had half-expected, but instead in the pavilion of his very own Guangxin Palace. If not for the tables and chairs having been changed to accommodate his utter inability to kneel or sit on the floor, Chen Pingping thought, they would have taken the places of the Elder Princess and the Crown Prince during their usual meetings.

An effect, he knew, that the Emperor had entirely intended.

"She wouldn't have left any mark," his Alpha said the moment the eunuchs had wheeled Chen Pingping to his seat, bowed, and left. "She's careless, but she's not _that_ careless."

"Her mark had already been left," Chen Pingping contradicted lightly. He picked up a lychee and snapped off a bit of its skin to reveal its white flesh. "The poison. The servant who placed the poison, who had worked for her household until your announcement of my new status, at which point she was transferred to the kitchens based on the complaints and requests of the Empress." He ducked his head, smiling, as the Emperor took the lychee from him. "Even now, the servant lies in the dungeons of the Bureau, well-fed and watered, and never having been tortured."

Pulling his sleeve back, the Emperor reached across the table to lay the fruit on Chen Pingping's lip. He obligingly bit down, and winced at the taste – more sour than sweet – that flooded his mouth. _Desperately_ out of season, he thought; no doubt they had been requested to be on this table merely for the Emperor to dramatise his point a little more.

"What else?" his Alpha asked.

Delicately spitting the seed out into the saucer, Chen Pingping took the pot from an approaching eunuch, and poured the tea for his husband. "Last week's group of assassins were paid upfront," he continued, "and a rather large sum. An entire silver ingot." He allowed a brief smile to cross his lips when the Emperor barked a sharp laugh. "The Bureau showed them sketches of the Empress's eunuchs, and one in particular had been identified as being the one to have hired and paid those men."

"An _entire_ ingot," the Emperor repeated, shaking his head.

"You must forgive her, Your Majesty," Chen Pingping murmured. "She almost never leaves the Palace. How was she to know that such forms of money would be impossible for even the wealthiest of officials to get a hold of?" He picked up the cup and offered it with his arms stretched out and head lowered. "And, of course, she does not have the skills of Your Majesty: to cultivate talents and encourage in them the desire to correct you when you err."

"Talents," the Emperor chuckled, taking the cup. "What a word you have used to describe you and Fan Jian." Chen Pingping only gave him a small smile.

"Tell me how you're going to close the curtains," his husband said, leaning forward with his elbow on the table. 

Chen Pingping sipped his tea. "Before I came into the Palace, I had one of the Crown Prince's servants—"

"—the spies you keep on him, you mean," the Emperor interrupted.

"If those are the terms Your Majesty prefers," Chen Pingping murmured. When his husband lifted an eyebrow and waved a hand, he continued, "I had one of my spies in the Crown Prince's household follow him to visit his mother in her Palace and steal one of her insignias. That had been in Shadow's hand before we left the Palace, and will be slipped into one of the dead bodies that the Black Knights searched."

"As my dearly beloved, exiled sister would say," the Emperor drawled, dark-bright eyes fixed upon his consort, "Chen Pingping, you have played a beautiful game of chess."

"Only as much as Your Majesty will allow me," Chen Pingping demurred.

The Emperor stood up abruptly. He might have left his study, but he had not bothered with changing out of the white robes he preferred, much less neatened and properly tied the bun that kept his hair out of the way and denoted him as an adult Alpha. So, a few strands flew into his face as he spun Chen Pingping's chair around. The brilliant, pure white cloth flared out around him as he went down on one knee.

"All that," he said, "when I know how much trouble they give you."

His hands had splayed, proprietary and possessive, over the heavy swell of their children. Chen Pingping bit his lip, and tried to not shiver as he felt those hands touch every inch of his silk-covered belly.

"I am long-practiced with such things," he barely managed to say. "While her only experience had been...." he swallowed hard, shaking his head. "The Empress Dowager did the majority of the planning, then."

"Do you blame me?" the Emperor asked. "For not taking action against my own mother for _her_ death?" 

There was no need to ask who 'her' referred to; there was only ever one person that would make the Emperor's tone grow this soft, this _wistful_. If Chen Pingping had not been often sandwiched between them, if he had not been honoured with the privilege of carrying the child who was of both of their blood, if he had not loved her just as much... he might be tempted to be jealous.

"No," he murmured. "I do not."

"Do you feel satisfaction, then?" the Emperor demanded. "Now that you have defeated one of the perpetrators so thoroughly?"

Chen Pingping shook his head. "No." His breath trembled. "Your Majesty, I do not seek vengeance on the Empress. Nor on the Empress Dowager. I never have."

"Then—"

"If I had been faster," he continued, eyes squeezed tightly shut, "if I had not been injured at Xiao En's hand, then she would not have been left with only Wu Zhu as a guard. If I had—" he cut himself off because he could no longer speak.

Not with the Emperor's mouth pressed against his.

"Your Majesty," he tried to protest, but his husband did not reply in words. There was only the quiet _rip_ of silk as the Emperor tore his collar apart to reveal his throat. Work-callused hands stroked him from chin to clavicle, lingering at the pulse point.

The mark on the left side of his throat was constantly red, constantly refreshed; the sign of the Emperor's favour. Its prominence tended to overshadow the much more faded mark on the right side, made by a set of teeth that was markedly smaller, but just as sharp, as the pair that had scored the left side.

When the Emperor set his teeth upon his own mark, his left hand was, as always, on the one Ye Qingmei had once left.

* * *

In the intervening months from then to now, there had been political movement and discussion.

Peace was an uneasy weight with the added humiliation of subjugation, though the Little Emperor of Beiqi was clearly personally pleased with the situation in general.

In order to show a willingness to settle the peace, of course they were in negotiations.

Every official of the court knew that something big was going on: Fan Jian would have had to bury his head deep in the treasury's books to not know a whisper, especially since his wife, now quietly allowed to visit the Palace more often with the favour his Highness the Second Prince kept showing Fan Xian, came back constantly with light news that there were talks of an arranged marriage in the works.

Political, of course.

Then, like a shot from those great black things Ye Qingmei had called "guns," the news dropped: the Empress had been accused of trying to assassinate the new Imperial Noble Consort. Such a crime was common, and given that she was the Empress, it would usually be forgiven. However, Chen huang-guifei was heavily pregnant with not one but two Imperial children, and therefore the Empress's actions threatened the dragon's bloodline and thus the dragon himself. 

It was no less than treason. 

As punishment, the Empress would be stripped of her position and demoted to the lowest consort rank, that of cairen; Talented Lady. Due to the suspicions on the Crown Prince – both that he had been aware of her plotting and did nothing about it, and also the fears of what a treasonous mother might have taught her son – he, too, would be removed from his current position. He was, in fact, to be offered up in an arranged marriage to solidify peaceful relations with Beiqi.

Oh, and as an aside: the General Xie Bi'an acquitted himself extremely well during the Empress's third attempt on Chen huang-guifei's life, practically saving the life of the Emperor's beloved consort and his children single-handedly. The Emperor was pleased enough with his conduct and talents that he bestowed upon him the title of the Count of Hudong, and with land in that province to back up the honours.

Everyone knew that it was a matter of time the newly-made Count would wed the Second Prince. Ruyu had even come back with gossip that the Prince had, on some days, started wearing his hair loose again.

Now, Fan Jian stood in front of the much-lauded Emperor and his greatly-vaunted consort-who-would-surely-soon-be-Empress, and fought the urge to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. "When I said I'd rather stay out of Imperial affairs," he said pointedly, " _this mess_ is the reason why."

"Oh come on, Fan Jian," Chen Pingping drawled, looking far too pleased with himself even though he looked like he had swallowed a watermelon whole. "You have to admit that it's a pretty happy ending."

"You made the poor boy a _Count_ ," Fan Jian said, because he'd heard the official story, and of course, of _course_ the Empress would be so stupid as to try to assassinate the Emperor's Imperial Noble Consort. "The boy now has _servants_." 

"I made the poor boy a Count," the Emperor said agreeably. "So, he's no longer poor."

Fan Jian decided to ignore that poor— _terrible_ excuse of a pun. He decided to not mention how General Xie Bi'an had, to all accounts, looked completely stunned the past week or so, while rumours were springing up all around him. Or that the Second Prince seemed to be walking on clouds despite being so decidedly removed from the succession battle that he had spent the past few years fighting in. 

He _definitely_ wouldn't mention how Fan Xian was also going crazy in that wing of the Fan Residence where none of the servants ventured, but they could all hear him _growl_ something that might be almost considered treasonous, if it weren't for the fact that none of the servants would dare admit to actually _hearing_ the words "that fucking bastard Emperor!"

"Are you waiting for your second son to get married before you'd allow Lin Wan'er to be wed?" Fan Jian asked instead, and refused to look at how Chen Pingping was on the verge of popping. That was a _huge_ , prettily embroidered, watermelon he'd swallowed.

"Oh, of course," the Emperor sipped at his tea. "It would not be proper for the third son to be married before his older brothers."

Fan Jian opened his mouth. Let out a sharp exhale. "May I remind you," he said through gritted teeth, "that his surname is _Fan_ , and therefore he is _my eldest_ son?"

"The Lin House lost their second son only last year," the Emperor told him serenely. "It should be another two years before a marriage in the Lin household would be appropriate."

"Lin Wan'er," Fan Jian said pointedly, "is _not_ part of the Lin House. Her name isn't on the registry."

"His Majesty is just waiting for Xian'er to come barging in to yell at him," Chen Pingping said. Fan Jian marvelled at how absolutely ridiculous bullshit could come from his mouth while he kept a straight face. "He's rather looking forward to it."

"Shall I go tell him that the Emperor's wish is to be cussed out like the lowest fishmonger's wife?" Fan Jian said, because these two seemed to think that they were in a street entertainment, smug and pleased as two raccoon cats who had stolen the choicest meats from the table.

"Because I am sure that Fan Xian would be delighted to fulfil _this_ request of his liege, a habit that I have no real wish for him to develop."

He took another breath and glared at the Emperor instead; the much august, much respected Imperial Majesty was pointedly in his soft white robes, only _barely_ working on his arrow heads. He was too amused to be actually focused on them though – because when Fan Jian had requested an audience and been shown into the Emperor's study, he was not at all surprised to scent the air and know just _what_ these two were up to.

Fan Xian would probably scream about his Niang being outraged. Fan Jian knew his old friend much, much better than his adopted son ever would, especially since Fan Xian had started up a habit of insisting on his rather warped view of the omega.

"The Eldest Prince is not married, nor does he even have a concubine," Fan Jian said, "your argument holds no water at all."

"It's never meant to," the Emperor said mildly. He waved a hand in front of him, gesturing towards the seat opposite – because of course he would have his consort right beside him, the wheels of Chen Pingping's chair practically pressed up against the legs of the Emperor's – before he picked up another arrowhead and dropped it back to the box. "Neither is it a test."

"Oh?" Fan Jian paused in the middle of taking a seat. "Now _that's_ a surprise."

"That I have stopped testing Fan Xian?"

Fan Jian snorted. "That you'd start lying to me," he said, lifting an eyebrow. "Come now, Your Majesty, haven't I said it once? A good official knows his lord's intentions even if they have not been written down as edicts."

"And are you," the Emperor drawled, looking at him from the corner of his eye, "a good official?"

Fully conscious of Chen Pingping's rather amused eyes on the both of them, Fan Jian leaned back on his chair. "You want to see how far you can push Xian'er before he decides that disobedience is a better option." He smiled, thin. "Or, at the very least, disagreeing with your orders."

"Are you suggesting that I would test anyone to that extent? Beyond their endurance?"

There was something like a glint in the Emperor's eyes. Fan Jian resisted the urge to fold his arms.

"It amuses you," Fan Jian said. "especially since your word has the weight of gold, and the strength of jade. No one else would dare disagree with you."

"Would you consider that tyrannical?" the Emperor arched a brow.

To the side, Chen Pingping let out a sound that was remarkably akin to a pained gasp. Fan Jian forced himself to ignore him, keeping his gaze fixed on the Alpha in the room instead.

"You delight in having those you trust disagree," he said. "Even if they might not do it the same way, even if they use arguments that would never be heard coming from that particular mouth, you still made as many chances to be proven wrong as you can." He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, now, and he deliberately refused to look away.

"And now you want Xian'er to do so, because there is no one else on Earth who is more like _her_."

The silence was, for a moment, only broken by the crackling of the Emperor's brazier.

The mirth in the Emperor's eyes sharpened like flint's edge, for a moment, and then he exhaled.

"Do you believe that you are right?"

"Would I have said it, if I didn't?" Fan Jian said.

She haunted them, all three of them, because she was a ghost who should be here, not just in the shadows of Fan Xian's smile, or the echoes of Fan Xian's words.

He'd never thought she'd die, to be honest, right until Wu Zhu had shown up at his door with a child and Chen Pingping's instructions to tuck the child away in Danzhou with Fan Jian’s mother.

"It has been decades," Chen Pingping murmured, voice barely loud enough to break the heavy silence of the room.

"Yet your heart has not changed," the Emperor threw at him.

"Have yours?" Chen Pingping asked, head slightly tilted. "Your Majesty?"

The Emperor did not speak for long moments, staring into nothingness while spinning the arrowhead between his fingers. Then he let out a gust of a sigh.

"Both Ze'er and Fan Xian want to get married as soon as possible," he said instead. "Who should go first?"

"Your son had been waiting longer," Fan Jian said. "But an Imperial wedding would take longer to organise, wouldn't it, for all that the Count Xie has no family nor clan to celebrate such a grand fortune."

Fan Jian raised an eyebrow at the Emperor. "I admit I am partial enough to _my_ son to wish him marital bliss as soon as possible."

And if the Emperor tried Fan Xian's patience any longer... well.

Who knew what would happen. Perhaps Fan Xian would decide to kidnap Chen Pingping from the Palace, to keep him safe from the Emperor's lecherous attentions and as leverage to force his "bastard Emperor" to set the wedding date in concrete terms and written word.

"I wonder," the Emperor said musingly, "if the four of them would be amenable to a joint wedding."

"Neither Wan'er nor Xian'er are officially part of the Imperial family," Chen Pingping remarked, practically snatching the words out of Fan Jian's mouth.

"Wan'er is well known to be the Princess's daughter," the Emperor said, spinning an arrowhead between his fingers. This man, Fan Jian barely bit back a sigh, really couldn't bear to be still.

"I can say that in recompense for her mother's absence for her wedding, she gets Imperial standards for the betrothal gifts and the ceremony."

"And it has nothing at all, of course," Fan Jian said, dry, "with how much you would be amused by the sight of Xian'er struggling to deal with that amount of pomp."

The Emperor gave him an innocent smile; it sat terribly on the old fox's face, the lines of cunning having been cut permanently across his features by age.

Xian'er would struggle, just like poor now-Count Xie would struggle, but at least Xie Bi'an would have been warned ahead of time just how much he could expect.

Did Wan'er even know how much _she_ could expect? Or was the Emperor going to ever so kindly tell Fan Xian in _great_ detail just how much pomp and fuss he was going to get for _his_ wedding.

And how much _he_ , Fan Jian, was going to have to deal with it; he, a mere assistant minister.

"Nothing at all," the Emperor agreed, blandly, placid as a shark.

"And nothing at all with how _I_ would have to deal with it."

"Xian'er is capable of dealing with much on his own," Pingping said helpfully. "He has been so insistent that he deals with the investigative bureau without help after all."

"That's entirely because he thinks of you as a delicate fragile flower," Fan Jian retorted, "instead of the slippery snake that is your true self."

Chen Pingping delicately rested his hands on top of the great swell of his belly. Then, giving Fan Jian a soft smile, he said placidly, "He is a very sweet boy."

"And the two of you seem entirely determined to drive him entirely round the bend," Fan Jian said, looking from the Emperor to his huang-guifei (and _what_ a title that was: after all of the decades Chen Pingping had spent refusing every honour except the guardianship of the Investigative Bureau, the Emperor had taken the first acceptance he received to the furthest reach that Chen Pingping allowed him).

Heaving another sigh, leaning back against his chair. "He'd do fine," he said pointedly. "So would Xie Bi'an. The amusement would only last _so_ far." He arched a brow. "I daresay the two of you have another motivation for doing this."

They always had more than one for every action, after all.

"The Capital could do with a celebration," his oldest friend said.

He'd known that old fox since they were still children, too young to even think of putting their hair up in any style but that of children. He was precisely the kind to take every inch that his darling mate would give, and devour miles in return, pushing boundaries with the greed of his ambition.

And Chen Pingping was exactly the sort to give coy inches, teasing and flirtatious, slivers of himself and gifts of men's lives, to sate his mate.

"Two," Fan Jian said, because the Emperor wanted to cloak it in this? Fine. he could play. "Maybe three, considering how desperately _you_ need an Empress."

"I don't, actually," the Emperor said, lips curving up on one corner into a smirk. "An Empress's primary role is to manage my harem and the Palace as a whole. My harem get along well enough with each other—"

"With the exception of your demoted ex-Express, whom you are ignoring the existence of entirely," Fan Jian added.

"—to the point that there's no real need to _manage_ them," the Emperor continued, blithely ignoring him. "My mother refused to let go of her role in managing the general household affairs of the Palace—"

"Which she's supposed to have surrendered to your ex-Empress long ago. Speaking of which, what did that woman _do_ with her time?" Fan Jian interjected again.

"Breeding leopard cats," Chen Pingping answered, sotto voce.

"—and so," the Emperor neither raised his voice nor looked displeased, instead staring down at his fingers as he, again, pretended the interruptions did not exist, "I don't actually need an Empress."

"You just want him," Fan Jian jerked his thumb over to Chen Pingping, "to perform free labour."

"My labour isn't free," Chen Pingping said, amused as all hell.

The Emperor wanted Chen Pingping right where he was, not-Empress, just so he had every excuse to either summon him, or go to him and gently, but thoroughly, violate the chaste and delicate image Fan Xian held of his Niang.

As if Chen Pingping wasn't already performing those roles the Empress was supposed to do.

"No," Fan Jian said, "You're just allergic to doing it in the open."

"'Allergic' is a terribly strong word," Chen Pingping said, picking up his cup and sipping at it. "I just think that things are more difficult to do when I have to accomplish them in the open."

"Oh yes," Fan Jian drawled. "Having the rightful authority to do things is so terribly difficult."

"He means having people watch him do it," the Emperor interrupted. He flung an arrowhead carelessly at Fan Jian; it landed soundlessly in his lap. "He's shy about things like that."

"You know," Fan Jian said, picking up the arrowhead and barely resisting the urge to fling it back, "I met him literally the week after you did."

Wide-eyed little provincial boy, who had barely been able to take his veil off without blushing—

(Though later he'd learned that little Chen Pingping, then Chen Wuchang, had constantly snuck out of his parents' home to sneak about the streets, having figured out at the age of ten how to hide his scent and dress like a beta boy)

—and despite his perfect turn of phrase, had still been speaking with the provincial accent of his hometown.

"Yes," The Emperor said. "Shy."

"Underhanded," Fan Jian said.

"Subtle," the Emperor said.

"I really should have a fan to hide behind," Chen Pingping said, sounding immensely amused, "so that I can flutter my lashes over it while the two of you fight over me."

"Use your sleeve," Fan Jian advised.

"You may use mine," the Emperor said, generously, while Fan Jian resisted the urge to throw the arrowhead back at the Emperor's head.

"Are you even going to keep it on?" Fan Jian asked the world's most shameless Alpha.

"You're right," the emperor said, sitting back and straight, starting to shrug the light, white almost gauzy outer-robe off. "this way it's much more convenient for my Xiaochangzai."

Fan Jian blinked. And then blinked again. "Am I," he drew out the words slowly, "supposed to be scandalised? Pretend that I _don't_ know what's underneath and that I've seen you when you were hairless and streaking naked in your mother's garden? Pretend that I don't know that you're fully covered by your underclothes?"

"The Young Master once said," Chen Pingping cut in, "that a wet t-shirt is more tantalizing than naked skin." He paused, then added, light, "Of course, she never did explain what on Earth a t-shirt even is."

"Should I," the Emperor paused in the middle of pulling his arm out of his sleeve, "dump a bucket of water on myself then?"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE THE THREE OF YOU DOING?"

The Emperor looked torn between shrugging his robe all the way off, and pulling it on again like a vaguely scandalised virgin.

He settled for pulling it back on as ... well you never used the word _coquettish_ for the Emperor, but it was an attitude that wouldn't have been out of place in the Silk Houses, let's be frank.

"Oh," Fan Jian said, the sound of his son's overly-loud voice suddenly reminding him why he was here. "Another one, Xian'er?"

"Why is that bastard stripping?"

Fan Jian opened his mouth. After a moment, which the Emperor took to fully pull his clothes back on and sit back down with what seemed like a pout, he said, "I don't think it can be even explained."

"Wet t-shirt," Chen Pingping said sagely.

Mouth falling open, Fan Xian let out a strangled shriek. "Niang! How do you even know that term—"

"Long story that involved a river, Our August Majesty the Great Qing Emperor, and a series of events better left unspoken," Fan Jian let out a sigh. "But are you here because you've brought another one?"

"We haven't even started for the day!" Fan Xian threw up his hands. "Fuck's sake, Dad, I asked you to come ask if the two of them were ready for the doctor candidates to be brought in, and then I was waiting for absolute _ages_ , and I come here to find," he flapped his hands in their direction.

Fan Jian wondered if it was some sort of delayed revenge to take so much pleasure that Fan Xian's frantic flailing; Ye Qingmei had always laughed at _them_ whenever they shrieked or displayed incomprehensibility at the things she did or said.

That confirmed it: the Emperor and Chen Pingping were both _terrible_ influences.

Fan Xian was now pouting at him; even if he had absolutely no relation to Sizhe, he looked remarkably like him at his most petulant.

Maybe all children had that same expression, no matter what.

"It is their fault," Fan Jian agreed, while Fan Xian made outraged noises at the thought that his darling Niang might have had anything to do with the perversion that was the Emperor in a wet t-shirt.

The emperor himself looked entertained enough that if Fan Jian didn't stop him, he'd probably actually order his beleaguered eunuch hou to go locate a bucket of water.

"You'd make a terrible impression of the Imperial Honour and Respectability if you do that," Fan Jian said to the Emperor because he could open his mouth. "and yes, i'm pretty sure that these two are ready."

It took him a moment to realise that Fan Xian was still standing there without having moved an inch. Fan Jian turned and blinked at him. "Yes?"

"You know," Fan Xian said, "I actually had no idea why you're even here." Fan Jian opened his mouth, about to remind his son (the boy had four parents; Fan Jian refused to relinquish his claim) that the official reason was that he had been invited to help interview the bunch of doctors who were supposed to be helping Chen Pingping survive the delivery of the twins, when Fan Xian's mouth spread into a grin.

One that Fan Jian had learned to dislike greatly.

"But you seem to make him," he scrunched his face up at the Emperor, "move faster with things, and take his attention off Niang... so maybe you should come here every day, Dad."

Correction: Fan Jian disowned this child.

"I," Fan Jian said, "have better things to do with my time. I'm an actual official, I have a job to do."

"As an official of the court, part of your duties is to come when summoned," the emperor said.

"If you wish someone to dance attendance on your Majesty, there are literal dancers within your household to do it."

"I changed my mind," Fan Xian grumbled. "You might actually make him even slower."

The Emperor snorted. "I," he arched his brow at their son, "am a very efficient Emperor."

"Efficient at making people's lives difficult," Fan Xian shot back.

As if the Emperor would find that insulting. 

"Xian'er," Chen Pingping said, and Fan Xian's attention was immediately diverted. The boy was devoted, absolutely _devoted_ to his Niang, like his Alpha protective instincts had been dialed up to a hundred and had focused it on every omega who was tangentially related to him. His Imperial omega sibling had taken to hiding out in the far ends of the Palace away from Fan Xian when the boy came on all over protective, if only to save Count Xie from stabbing the Chairman of the Investigative Bureau for trying to wrap the Princess up in cotton wool.

(Half of it was Chengze's own doing, Fan Jian knew, had heard, because Chengze delighted in having a younger sibling to tease. It was just that sometimes his teasing backfired and then Count Xie got very stabby.) 

"Right, right, the doctor," Fan Xian said. "This one is pretty young, but he's got a serious reputation."

"Oh?" Fan Jian had known the Emperor for long enough to know when the man was genuinely interested, and not even the way he lounged on his chair and raised an eyebrow to Fan Xian. "Do elaborate."

True to form, Fan Xian rose to the challenge immediately: he straightened and cleared his throat in a dramatic fashion before withdrawing a small booklet from his pocket. Fan Jian took the chance to lift his chair and turned around.

"He's known as Han Guangling," Fan Xian started. "'Han' as that in 'winter chill,' Guang as in 'light,' and 'Ling' as that in 'spirit.'" He paused, and snorted to himself. "No, his parents don't hate him; he came up with that himself."

"I don't think 'Han' is even a legitimate surname," Chen Pingping said musingly. "At least, not as far as I've seen."

"Which means it likely isn't," Fan Jian said, wry. "Carry on, Xian'er."

"Alright," he nodded. "He's a year younger than me, and was born in Hudong," General Xie's new territory, Fan Jian realised, all the way to the northeast of the capital city, "where he was named Mei Xiaoyun – 'Mei' as in plums, and "Xiaoyun" meaning 'little luck.'" He took a breath, and Fan Jian helpfully refilled his own cup and held it out. "When he was five, his parents sold him to Hudong's Prefect."

"Wait," Chen Pingping leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "His parents sold—"

Fan Xian drained the cup with a gusty sigh. "Oh, didn't I mention?" he smirked. "He's a male omega."

"A male omega _doctor_ ," Fan Jian said, as stunned as the Emperor.

They were rare enough already, and Fan Jian had his own suspicions on how _atypical_ Chen Pingping was, of his sex and caste. Even when he had carried the title Second Prince, Chengze had not been fighting for the throne for his own desire, and had abandoned the title as quickly as it was feasible, content to take up the title Princess and retreat back to the Palace, for all that his residence was still maintained outside.

For a male omega to take a name like some of the literati, blatantly naming himself something as antisocial as _that_ and become a _doctor_...

Doctors also saw a lot of the terrible things that could happen to the human body even without war. How on earth could an omega like that feel safe?

"He would know and understand my Xiaochangzai's physiology a lot more," the Emperor mused, after a long moment.

"That's exactly why he's going first," Fan Xian said. "He's actually the most acceptable candidate based on knowledge alone, and that's not even including his accomplishments."

"Oh? What might those be?" the Emperor asked.

"He was originally meant to be a concubine of the Hudong Prefect's Alpha heir," Fan Xian continued the story, "except that when Han Guangling was thirteen—"

"Right before an official marriage," Chen Pingping murmured. At Fan Xian's startled glance, he gave him a small smile. "Why do you think you've never met a single omega in Danzhou except for Fan Ruoruo?"

"Who came from the capital," Fan Jian interrupted, "and was your sister."

"Precisely," Chen Pingping nodded. "You would've met no other omega, Xian'er; most were betrothed up by five, married by thirteen, and mothers by fifteen."

"Holy shit," Fan Xian breathed. "The next part of the story now makes perfect sense."

Fan Jian didn't say anything about where his mind immediately went; an omega boy who had decided on such a name seemed to imply a ... very defensive nature.

As much as people might think that omegas were gentle and sweet and completely helpless, Fan Jian knew better; he'd spent how many years knowing Chen Pingping? He was atypical, but omegas were human just as much as Alphas were.

They had wants and desires just as much as others would, and an omega boy would have had the run of the household.

Including the kitchens where they kept things like _knives_.

Maybe, Fan Jian thought, they should be worried about the boy being a _psychopath_.

"You should continue the story before Fan Jian starts thinking about death," Chen Pingping said, clearly amused. He was resting his elbows on the arms of his wheelchair, and his back was almost aligned with the heavy-duty steel. "Because, given what I remembered of Hudong six or seven years ago, that's not what happened."

"Niang really knows everything," Fan Xian said, shaking his head. "Yeah; it wasn't murder, but a plague. And he didn't end up killing his betrothed, Dad; he saved him."

"What?" Fan Jian blinked. "Tell the story properly, Xian'er."

"Six years ago, the Prefect of Hudong pleaded with the capital for help." It wasn't Fan Xian who spoke, but the _Emperor_. "He said that the entirety of his province had been infected, and no one could find the source. I prepared a team of doctors and a platoon of soldiers to head up north, but before they could even set off, the Prefect had sent another message: that the source of the plague had been found and eradicated."

"Oddly enough," Chen Pingping picked up the thread, voice soft and slow, "no one would give the name of the person who had solved the mystery and cured the province. Yan Ruohai's report stated that he suspects the wife of an important official." He smiled, thin. "Everyone knows the provinces' attitudes towards keeping their wives behind closed doors and high walls."

"I suppose I don't have to say that we've found the mysterious doctor, then?" Fan Xian asked, wryly. When the Emperor waved a hand at him, he huffed out an irritated breath. "Han Guangling demanded to be set free from the betrothal as the reward for his efforts. However, the Prefect tried to reward him with a hurried marriage instead."

"Didn't you say that a murder didn't happen?" Fan Jian arched a brow.

"Apparently this guy had some martial arts skills as well?" Fan Xian said, scratching the back of his neck. "The story goes that he fought off the Prefect’s soldiers and personal guards _and_ the Alpha son himself – not easy, because he was reportedly above the eighth standard – left the province, and changed his name."

"No wonder no one was willing to tell the Bureau his name the first time," Chen Pingping murmured. "This must have been a great personal shame to the Prefect."

"Which he fully deserves for trying to force someone into a marriage he doesn't want," Fan Xian snorted, giving the Emperor a pointed look that went entirely ignored.

"And then?" Fan Jian prompted, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees despite himself.

"The reports became really sparse," Fan Xian said. "We only have his word that he spent the next six years wandering the country and healing whoever asked him for help."

"That's odd," Fan Jian frowned. "If he had been doing that, without seeking fame... Why would he come _here_ , and offer himself up to the Imperial service?"

Fan Xian smiled, bright and sharp. "That's the funny thing," he said. "When I had Wang Qinian ask him the question, he said, and I quote, 'I have a weakness for anything that kills algae.' It was obviously a reference or code of some sort, and I don't understand it and none of the Bureau could, either, and maybe I shouldn't have let him come but with his reputation _and_ his caste _and_ his sex, he seemed to be—"

He kept talking, but Fan Jian wasn't listening anymore. Because he had heard that line before.

When Ye Qingmei had first renamed Chen Wuchang to Chen Pingping, the then-King of Chen had asked, a little irritated, why she would choose a name like 'duckweed.' And Ye Qingmei had said, with a wide, irreverent grin, that _precise line_ that Han Guangling had given Wang Qinian.

"Show the doctor in," Fan Jian said, because the other two had also gone very still, Chen Pingping's hand stiff on his cup.

Fan Jian was even getting up, forcing himself to stand, turning to the door.

Algae, duckweed. It could be a coincidence. it might well be a coincidence.

But who would say something so strange, out of nowhere?

Fan Xian quickly caught onto the odd tension in the room. "Right," he said, "I'll just go lead him in then?"

"Don't take the Palace servants' job from them," Fan Jian heard himself say. "Get Eunuch Hou to do it."

"Right," Fan Xian nodded jerkily. "Uh.... right then." He moved to the outer part of the room, calling "Eunuch Hou!" Fan Jian left him to it, turning his attention back to the Emperor and his consort, both of whom looked like a cold tundra wind had blown over them and froze them entirely.

"No matter what she could accomplish," Fan Jian said, and surprised himself by how steady his voice remained, "I don't think it's possible for her to cheat death."

Chen Pingping squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing sounded _shattered,_ and the hand clutching the arm of his chair was very white. The other, placed over his swollen stomach, trembled. Fan Jian opened his mouth.

But he didn't get to say a word: the Emperor had already moved, practically flinging himself out of his chair in a flurry of white cloth. He scooped his consort out of his wheelchair, placing him in his lap, and Fan Jian couldn't even find the voice to accuse him for obscenity, because all the Emperor did was to tuck Chen Pingping's face into his own neck, and wrapped his arms around the huge watermelon that contained their children.

"Breathe," the Imperial dragon commanded. "Steady with me now."

Anyone else, Fan Jian knew, would have been kicked out of the room. Even Xian'er, no matter how much the Emperor liked to tease the boy with the knowledge that his Niang wasn't as pristine as he liked thinking him to be. But Fan Jian had the privilege, and had always held it, because it had never been two, but three.

(It had never been three, but _four_.)

"Your Majesty," Eunuch Hou's voice rang out. "The doctor Han Guangling awaits your audience."

"Let him wait," the Emperor rumbled, running a soothing hand over his omega's back while his other curled protectively over their children. "I will see him when I see him."

"Yes, Your Majesty—" Eunuch Hou never managed to finish his sentence.

"This student," a clear, bright voice rang out in the room, "pays his respects to His Highness, the King of Chen's Heir."

Every single person in the room stopped breathing. Fan Jian could almost hear the heartbeats speed up, or even the movement of muscles as Chen Pingping jerked his head up, eyes widening.

"That's the Emperor!" Eunuch Hou regained his voice first. "Are you daft? How dare you—"

"You're dismissed, Eunuch Hou." As expected, the Emperor recovered his voice first. "Leave my study. Wait outside." There was a moment when Fan Jian could almost _taste_ the servant's confusion, but he knew the Emperor's moods and tone after long years, and excused himself. "Fan Xian," the Emperor continued. "Bring the _doctor_ in."

That mocking note, Fan Jian thought, dizzied despite himself, was entirely unnecessary.

The first thing he noticed about Han Guangling was his scent: like sunflowers in the fullest bloom, sweet yet heavy with a touch of green. The next thing he noticed was the gauzy black veil he wore, covering his hair and his face from nose down: the common attire of omegas from the provinces, Fan Jian knew, though the style was a little old-fashioned. That was likely the impact, because— he swallowed hard.

When Ye Qingmei and the Emperor had first met the person they had thought to be Chen Pingping, that person had been wearing a veil of exactly that same make.

Han Guangling said nothing, and kept his eyes down. Fan Xian was clearly confused, but Fan Jian had no time for his son, not when his eyes were busy darting between the omega doctor and the Emperor.

Then the Emperor sighed. He shifted until he deposited his consort into his chair and, with one hand brushing light over Chen Pingping's neck, stood.

Dark eyes snapped up, and no, Fan Jian thought, this man might carry the scent of an omega, might carry the name of Han Guangling, but that was not all he was.

"You _bastard,_ " Ye Qingmei reborn snarled, ripping his veil off in one motion and crumpling the front of the Emperor's robes with another, "what have you done with my Ping'er?"

Fan Jian witnessed a sight he had not seen in literal decades: the Emperor staring, slack-jawed and gaping mouth, in utter, unadulterated shock. A pity, really, that it didn't last, because he recovered his bearings within the next second and snapped back:

"He's not your Ping'er, he's _my_ Xiaochangzai!"

"You fucking _wish_!" Black hair spilled in a silk-like sheet down the skinny body to brush the sides of thin hips, but Han Guangling— Ye Qingmei— had never been limited by his— her physical body. "He's always liked me better, and I have so many goddamned scores to settle with you, you _bastard_!"

Before anyone could do anything but gape, Ye Qingmei— Han Guangling— _their visitor_ had the Emperor's collar in two hands and was shoving him into the wall, _through_ it, and into the air.

Right before the two of them slammed straight into the pond, Fan Jian could hear, sharp as a whistle and just as commanding: "Xiaozhuzhu!"

Then numerous Imperial koi were being flung out of the water. Their shocked faces, Fan Jian thought, likely resembled Fan Xian's.

"Wha—" his son— her son— _their_ son croaked out.

"I think," Fan Jian said, slapping the boy on the shoulder, "your old woman," he used the same term his son had always used for Ye Qingmei, because 'Niang' was Chen Pingping now, "managed to reincarnate herself."

Fan Xian opened his mouth. Breathed out hard through it, and started to shake his head. Fan Jian watched for a moment, and then turned.

Chen Pingping's eyes were fixed upon the pond. His face was utterly unreadable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drelfina:   
> Mei Xiaoyun 梅小运 (plum + little + luck)  
> Magistrate of the Province (Hudong 湖东, made up, east of the Lake.)  
> Han Guangling 寒光灵 (cold + light + spirit): Han in this name is _not_ a proper Chinese surname, and the name itself is very much not a good name – or rather, it's not a name that any parents would want to give their children. It's _very_ anti-social, DON'T TOUCH ME sort of name.


	8. EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meanwhile in Beiqi...

"You have no doubt heard of the talk circulating the court," the Emperor said above Shangsan Hu's head. 

He had. 

"Nanqing intends," the Emperor continued, without waiting for Shangsan Hu to say anything, "to marry to Us one of their Imperial Family." 

That had exactly what Shangsan Hu had heard as well; that Nanqing was trying to build peace with marriage, to ease the resentment of Great Qi's heavy loss. He understood how much his people hated the fact that they had had to concede land, and therefore in order to appease them, Nanqing would send them a bride of the Imperial family.

The idea that they would send the Omega sister of the Emperor had been thought of and discarded; she was too old to be married, and her disgrace was too well-known, having been driven out of the capital long before he'd clapped eyes on the smiling, incredibly strange Fan Xian. None of the court would take that as anything but a slap in the face. 

It would have been an insult. 

The silence was expectant, and Shangsan Hu lifted his head. "Their omega Prince?" he asked after a moment. The omega Prince was cast in the same mold as their terrifying Chen Pingping, or so Shangsan Hu had heard, actually binding his hair and acting the beta to try to actually compete for the throne. 

Based on his rather poor understanding of politics, it would be a great move, because anyone would be pleased to be granted marriage to the incredibly rare male omega, and at the same time Qing would remove said political contender. 

"I thought that he was going to marry that swordsman," Shangsan Hu said. 

"Who?" The Emperor asked, leaning forward, and it wasn't a question, because the Emperor _didn't_ ask questions unless it was to give rope to hang oneself with.

(In the months since the Nanqing Ambassador Fan Xian had left, giving Shangsan Hu exactly what he'd asked for the low, low price of bending his knee to the Empress Dowager, the Emperor had systematically undermined her own mother, rearranged the court as easily as writing poetry, and now Shangsan Hu was the only one left who was nominally the Empress Dowager's man – as fangless and powerless as her. 

He was not surprised; the Emperor was of the same brain and thinking as Fan Xian, lightning thoughts and clever words, for all that she was very young. And Shangsan Hu knew what he was – he was a fighter, a general. Soon enough he'd be sent off to another border, to another war, to another skirmish, away from the politics of the court which hurt his head like it was thick incense. 

He preferred the mountain air, and the clear view of an open field. It would be fine if he was sent away. He knew what he was not: a glib-tongued court official who could deal with the Emperor's fine words. )

"The swordsman, Xie Bi'an," Shangsan Hu said. "I had crossed paths with him." 

"And crossed swords," the Emperor said, and tapped her fingers on the arm of her throne, before smiling. "Mm. who do you think We would marry the Nanqing Prince to, then?" 

Shangsan Hu was the only man kneeling in front of the Emperor. 

He was trying to think of having to deal with a literal Chen Pingping in his hearth and Home. 

For the mercy of all of the gods, _no_. 

The Prince would probably come _with_ Xie Bi'an, who was a reasonable enough Alpha in his own right, but two Alphas in the same home? Alphas barely could _share_ the same room, let alone the same omega. It would be _exactly_ like Nanqing bullshit to have an omega mated to one, married to the other, and have Shangsan Hu's home destroyed from within. 

A nice lovely last insult from Nanqing, something that only Fan Xian could think up. 

"Your Majesty," Shangsan Hu said, "the Prince is surely already mated." 

"We would have used the term 'marriage'," the Emperor said, thoughtfully, mild as a spring breeze, "but We are still young, after all." 

Shangsan Hu blinked. "Your Majesty?" 

Her smile was as mild as milk. "Grand General Shangsan Hu," she said, "your bride will arrive in a week. He was the ex-Crown Prince of Nanqing, We suspect that he would vastly prefer honorable marriage in view of his status." 

Shangsan Hu stared at her. 

"... _What_?" 

"Yes, Grand General," the Emperor said, tone gentle and benevolent like the stories of the gods who stepped down from their great Temple to aid humanity. "We are not as callous as to give to you a bride whose heart is already taken; the Nanqing Prince you will wed is not the second child of the Emperor, but the third."

Shangshan Hu's mouth had gone very dry.

"He is a beta, and as far as our spies know, his heart is free to be stolen." The Emperor's smile widened, teasing at the edges like a mother with her favourite child despite her being half his age. "We encourage you to take it."

He could not stop staring. He could not speak.

"For the sake of Great Qi," the Emperor finished, and threw her head back with a sharp roar of laughter that echoed throughout the room.

* * *

All his life, Chengqian had been told he was to inherit the dragon throne. That he was to be the next dragon, to achieve great heights. His name itself reflected his mother's ambition, with the unsubtle hint that he was to be as _good_ as an Alpha. 

That he had feelings for the omegas in his life was only natural. 

It had been insulting, to him and his mother both, that his father had let his omega brother play at being a beta, as equal to himself, an actual competitor – to allow him the title _Prince_ instead of the natural Princess. 

And then somehow, everything had gone wrong after that mission to Beiqi.

If he had – if there had been something he could have done, to prevent it from spiraling out of his control… 

But when his Aunt had been exiled, he suddenly found out that his support in court was negligible. Chen Pingping was taken into the Palace, obviously pregnant and bearing a new title just made specifically for him, and the Second Prince had just about immediately thrown his support and faction to the new Imperial Noble Consort. 

All at once, his position as Crown Prince was at risk enough his mother couldn't help but move to help. 

And it all fell apart. 

He hadn't even known that there were plans in the works. On one breath his rank had been stripped with his mother's, and on the next he was to be married to the barbaric wilds of Beiqi, to their tiger of a Grand General, Shangsan Hu. 

It was exile and punishment both, for all that they dressed the words prettily enough: he had been replaced by _unborn infants_. It was only out of some great sense of _mercy_ that he was to be married away, out of the country, and not executed. 

If Chengqian had been given a choice, he would have chosen execution. That way he wouldn't be stuck suffering in the far reaches of civilization, to be eaten alive by the cruellest Alpha alive in Beiqi.

He had been right to fear the ruthlessness of Chen Pingping, and the entire trip over to Beiqi, he could only curse his fate that his mother's attempt to defend her title had failed. 

He might be the highest ranking person of this entire entourage, but he knew he had precisely no say in anything, not even the time of his marriage, or the cut of his dress. He had been accorded the Imperial phoenix on his robes, since he was still of Imperial blood, but alas, not given the veil that a bride would wear in Qing. 

Beiqi was _traditional_ , which meant he was given only a fan – _"for your modesty, Your Highness"_ – which wouldn't hide him at _all_. The semi-opaque curtain of his palanquin shielded him from view, just for that short trip from the established Qing Embassy to the General's residence, which he was thankful for. 

And that was his first sight of his mounted husband, riding at the head of the wedding procession, through that curtain. 

Big, broad, _strong_. His horse was already bigger and taller than any that Chengqian had ridden, and the General was not dwarfed by his steed. 

Too big, too strong, Chengqian was not sure he would survive it. He was larger than life, just _sitting right there_. His legendary lance was nowhere in sight, which was yet another mercy, or else Chengqian would expire in the palanquin. 

He had to be helped out of the palanquin; the robes were heavy with gold embroidery, and the way his hair was styled made his neck hurt with the weight of all the gold.

The General had dismounted, and was watching him. Chengqian thanked the heavens for the fan, because that way he could hide from the heavy scrutiny, and only had to look ahead. 

It didn't shield him from the heavy, rich woody scent of oak, though.

The courtyard was smaller than his favourite study back in Qing (no, it wasn't his anymore, he couldn't have it, he didn't have it, he was no longer _Crown Prince_ ), but full of people because the Emperor of Beiqi was in attendance, her scent coloured with amusement as they walked past. 

In front of all of Beiqi's officials, with the only Qing citizens the escorts who would leave once the wedding was done, he had to sit opposite the Grand General Shangsan Hu and use the huge long ceremonial chopsticks to take the ceremonial morsels of food, and wet his lips with the wine. 

All while trying to avoid staring at the General. Because if he lifted his eyes too high, their gazes _met_ , and the General's gaze was dark, heavy, _intent_ on him. 

Chengqian was going to die tonight. 

If he didn't look at his husband – who was constantly _staring_ at him, his huge, Alpha scent deepening like mossy oak – and looked out to the audience instead, over his fan, he couldn't help but see the _Emperor_ , in her elevated seat, smiling benignly down at Chengqian. 

Chengqian didn't know if he wanted the ceremony to be over, or to never end, because he had never been under such intense, _personal_ scrutiny, even as Crown Prince – no one had ever met his eyes so directly before. 

He wanted it to be tomorrow. Next week. _Next year_ , when everything was over and he probably would be safely dead. 

Chen Pingping was the cruellest person in the _world_ , to claim this was _mercy_.

* * *

Chengqian was waiting in the wedding chamber, not daring to lower the fan from his face, not staring at the symbolic seeds and small fruits laid out in front of him with precise meaning that for the life of him he couldn't remember what they were for. 

He heard his husband approach the door and tensed, fingers tightening on his fan—

And the door burst open and the General Shangsan Hu exclaimed, as he thumped his thunderous way in, "I am not going to have sex with you, Your Highness!" 

"—What?" Chengqian said, jumping up in fright at the door and his husband's _voice_ and— "Why?! Am i not attractive enough for you?" 

And that was insulting. Insulting enough that his mouth carried straight on, beyond the expression of his husband's face, because how _dare_ he, how dare he suggest— 

"I can do my duty!" Chengqian yelled back. "I am not afraid to die!" 

The General's mouth opened, and shut, and then he immediately retreated out of the room, shutting the door very quietly.

* * *

"This is your wedding night, General Shangsan," the Emperor said, looking mildly perplexed as Shangsan Hu, who was still dressed in his wedding finery, practically crashing to his knees in front of her. "Why are you not with your bride?" 

"Your Majesty," Shangsan Hu said, practically eating the floorboards with how low he had knelt. "I am going to cause a war." 

"Really?" the Emperor said, sitting up a little, her guifei straightening with her. "How so? Have you already offended the little Prince?" 

Shangsan Hu swallowed hard. "If the Prince were to die, this would violate the peace treaty, and war would start again." 

"... You have already _killed_ him?" 

"No! I would never—" Shangsan Hu swallowed, hard. Didn't dare look up. "My wife— thinks I would kill him with my—" 

He couldn't continue. 

The Emperor and her Consort were silent for long moments. 

Shangsan Hu could feel sweat bead down his temple. 

The Emperor made a muffled sound, and when Shangsan Hu looked up, his Emperor threw her head back, roaring with laughter. 

Both he and Si-guifei were equally dumbfounded by the Emperor's reaction. Her laughter was so hearty, Shangsan Hu could _swear_ she was crying from it.

It took almost fully ten minutes before the Emperor stopped – he had almost thought he'd killed the _Emperor_ somehow. 

"Go back and be _gentle_ ," the Emperor said, biting her tongue, though her shoulders shook. "The Prince had grown up a Crown Prince, after all." 

Shangsan Hu had no idea what that meant, but he understood the dismissal well enough. 

"Hopefully," the Emperor said, when Shangsan Hu left, "he doesn't show the Princeling his knot tonight. Methinks the Prince really _will_ die of fright." 

Si Lili, the Emperor's first (and currently, only) Guifei still looked stunned; the Emperor swallowed down her laughter, and tugged Si Lili closer. "Here. It's alright. He won't be able to hurt you again, but. My dear Guifei, can you even imagine his _face_." 

Biting her lip, she turned her head into the Emperor's neck, breathing in her sweet scent of begonias and hyacinths. She _could_ imagine the once-Crown Prince's face, and part of her wanted to crow at the thought of that— that cruel beta being brought so low, but she couldn't help but empathise with his fear.

To be brought to a foreign country and married to an Alpha would be scary enough to a beta woman or an omega who had grown up knowing that was a possibility. To a beta man who had always thought himself to be a husband, now turned into a wife... The Prince had to be utterly terrified.

"Oh, my Lili," the Emperor murmured, her breath like a kiss on Si Lili's temple. "Even after you have been so scarred, you still have heart enough to be kind."

Closing her eyes, Si Lili made no sound, turning to tuck her face into her Emperor's shoulder instead. She could be kind, now; she could forego cruelty. Because here, within the Emperor's arms, they were neither weakness nor vulnerability. They were simply what she was.

The Emperor had given her that, when no Alpha – not even Fan Xian – could.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drelfina: 
> 
> And that's the end of Season 2! 
> 
> Well. sort of. A couple of one-shots and short-fic for the bridging bits between Season 2 and 3, at least one spanning actually the end of season 1 to the end of season 2, is upcoming. 
> 
> while we ... uh. stare at the potential season 3. 
> 
> Which probably would take a while. It definitely has expanded because _How could this happen to me, [spoiler] is too pretty_.


End file.
